A Turn for the Better
by Ms-Figg
Summary: Hermione Granger goes back in time to try and convince a young Severus Snape not to aid Tom Riddle. Of course, Severus doesn't make it easy. Life at Hogwarts is now VERY different. Alternate Universe, Violence. OOC, Drama, Romance, Humor, Lemons and more.
1. Tweaking the Past

**NOTE: There was a small rewrite to this chapter. I had to address the matter of Tom's Horcruxes and how they didn't resurrect him. I used an actual method often practiced to keep the soul of a person from reanimating back in the old, witchy days of our own world, although lining the coffin with the object was the preferred form of usage.**

**I also had to adjust Snape's age. He was seventeen when Hermione came to visit him, not eighteen.  
**

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Chapter 1 Tweaking the Past

Eighteen year old Hogwarts student Hermione Granger, Professor Severus Snape and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore walked into the Head boy's room, Hermione clutching a small object in her hand attached to a necklace strung around her throat.

Albus closed the door and looked at Hermione soberly, as did the Professor.

"Now, Miss Granger…you are sure you have the proper calculations?" Albus asked her for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Yes, Headmaster. I've checked and rechecked. I will be able to appear in the proper place at the proper time within fifteen minutes of the exact moment I need to be there," Hermione reassured him, again for what seemed the hundredth time.

"You have the pensieve I prepared, Miss Granger?" the Potions Master asked in his silken voice.

"Yes sir. I have it," she said, patting her robes pocket. Severus stared at the young witch a moment, then turned to Albus.

"Headmaster, may I speak to Miss Granger alone? I have some last minute instructions I should like to give her concerning her mission. . A journey through time to the same space a second time is impossible to do without going out of sync. She will only have one chance to get it right."

Albus nodded.

"Certainly, Severus," he responded, then he looked at Hermione.

"Good luck, Miss Granger…if you are successful, you will have changed everything. Everything."

Hermione nodded, and the Headmaster left the room. Severus warded the door behind him with a silencing spell, then turned toward Hermione and stared at her for a moment with his dark eyes.

Hermione stared back at him silently.

"Miss Granger, you are a brave young witch indeed to attempt to do what you are going to do," Severus said to the witch. "In actuality, you are facing death when you appear in this room…my room on the designated night. Your sudden appearance will put me on the defensive, and there is a good chance I will hex first and ask questions afterwards. And because you will have to reveal you know my secret, most likely, I will want to silence you. Permanently. I was not a good wizard then either, and much more hot-headed. You might not even have a chance to speak. There were no spells to disclose the use of an Unforgivable…and my younger self will not hesitate to use it…unless I have good reason to hesitate…"

"What would make you hesitate, Professor?" Hermione asked him.

Severus looked her over appraisingly, then arched an eyebrow at her.

"I was quite anti-social, Miss Granger…but still…I had the same urges and randiness of any other seventh-year wizard at Hogwarts. Think about it," he said, turning and heading for the door.

The Potions Master removed the silencing spell, placed his hand on the doorknob and looked back over his shoulder at Hermione.

"Use that mind of yours to the best of your ability. It means life or death, believe me. Good luck, Miss Granger."

The wizard exited the room.

Hermione stood there a moment, doing just what the Professor said. Thinking.

Harry Potter had been killed by Voldemort three years ago. Both he and Hufflepuff Champion Cedric Diggory. They were both competing in the Tri-wizard Tournament against two other wizarding schools. The cup they were trying to collect which would declare the winner was secretly turned into a port key, which transported both of them away from Hogwarts during the final competition. No one knew at first where they disappeared to, but their bodies were found in a remote graveyard the next day by a caretaker. Harry was lying on top of the grave of Tom Riddle Sr., his eyes wide and staring skyward. He had been hit with the Killing Curse by the Dark Lord. He didn't deflect it a second time. Voldemort finally got it right.

Shortly afterwards, the Death Eater attacks began again, Voldemort garnering even more support and becoming more powerful than ever. There was no way the Order could hope to defeat him.

It was Hermione who came up with the idea to travel back in time and stop Severus from creating the elixir that changed Tom into Voldemort. Hermione was prepared to kill him if necessary…but she didn't want to. As cold and snarky as the wizard was, he had spent the majority of his life trying to save the wizarding world. It hardly seemed right to murder him in his youth.

Hermione made her decision. She had to make sure young Severus didn't hex her on sight. The Professor said he was as hormonal and randy as any other wizard. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't want her to take advantage of that fact.

Hermione shuddered, then fished the sealed pensieve out of her pocket that contained the Professor's memories, the memories he hoped would convince his younger self not to provide Tom's elixir. She placed this on the Head boy's bed. Then she placed her wand on it as well.

Slowly, she began to unbutton her robes.

"God, I hope this works," she breathed.

Seventeen-year-old Severus Snape was lying in his bed on top of the covers in his boxers, thinking about what he would do tomorrow. He had been working on Tom Riddle's elixir using snake venom for several months now, and believed he made a breakthrough. If he were successful and increased Tom's power, his own position of power in the newly formed Death Eaters would be assured. Then he would have friends, though he really didn't care about that. It was the power and protection he coveted.

The sallow-skinned, stringy-haired young wizard's face contorted, his large nose crinkling as he thought about the two people he hated most in the world…James Potter and Sirius Black. Gods damned Gryffindors. Soon they'd find out what it was like to be ambushed and attacked when outnumbered. Tom promised to kill them both if Severus could come through for him and Severus hated the two wizards enough to want to see that happen. It all rested on how well the elixir worked.

Suddenly, Severus got an odd feeling and sat up in his bed, grabbing his wand off the nightstand, his black eyes peering through the dim light shed by his turned down torches. He eased out of the bed and quickly darted to a darkened corner of the room. His eyes narrowed as something began to flicker beside his bed. He pointed his wand at it. Whatever it was, he was going to blast it to Kingdom Come.

The flicker became more solid, and the young wizard started slightly when he saw it appeared to be a witch…dressed only in white knickers and a white bra, holding a bowl in one hand and a wand in the other. The flickering stopped.

"Don't you fucking move!" he hissed as Hermione froze in place, "Drop your wand right now and step away from it if you want to live, witch!"

Severus held his wand on her with deadly accuracy. He'd kill her if she didn't comply. The only reason he hadn't blasted her immediately was because of the way she was dressed…or undressed rather.

Hermione dropped the wand and stepped back from it…not daring to even move her head. The voice that hissed at her sounded as if it meant business, and she wasn't about to test Severus' resolve.

Severus moved quickly and silently from the corner, keeping his wand trained on Hermione. He then bent down and picked up her wand, putting it into his nightstand drawer and quickly warding it, his eyes locked on the witch as he did so.

Hermione looked at him. Severus wasn't attractive at all. He was very tall, skinny and pale, his hair even greasier looking than it was in her time, and longer, falling over his thin shoulders in stringy strands. He had quite a bit of acne on his face too, and his nose was huge. The young wizard appeared…well…the best way to describe him was gangly. His hands and feet looked too big for his body and his joints were sharp and pointed. But still, he moved gracefully. Hermione had no idea how he managed that with his over long limbs.

"Who are you?" Severus demanded.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I've come here to help you," she said.

"Help me?" Severus repeated, his black eyes sweeping over her. She was short but had big breasts and ample hips. She wasn't gorgeous, but passable in a pinch.

"Help me how? Talk quick," he ordered the witch, shaking his wand at her threateningly.

"You're about to make a terrible mistake and unleash the greatest horror you can imagine on the wizarding world. Thousands are going to die." she said, "Tom Riddle is…"

Suddenly, Severus was on her, his black eyes wild and he jabbed his wand into the side of her throat, towering over her.

"What do you know about Tom Riddle?" he hissed.

Fuck. How did she know?

"I know he is going to torture you within an inch of your life every chance he gets," Hermione gasped.

Severus absorbed this, then his face contorted blackly.

"You're lying! Tom wouldn't torture me. I'm going to help him become the greatest wizard in wizarding history. He will be grateful. He will reward me. You know too much, witch…you have to die. No one is supposed to know what is going on," Severus said, preparing to cast the Killing Curse. He could transform her body and get rid of it later. Maybe turn her into a stone and throw her deep into the lake.

"Wait!" Hermione cried out desperately, "The pensieve…it's from you, the future you. It has your memories of what life is like serving Voldemort…Tom Riddle! Please! Please just look at it," she said.

Severus' black eyes shifted from Hermione's terrified face to the small blue bowl she held in her hands, then back again. He stepped back from Hermione and raised his wand, focusing on her.

Gods, he was going to kill her. Hermione closed her eyes.

Severus' eyes washed over her body again. He hesitated.

"Incarcerous!" he hissed.

Ropes flew out of the tip of his wand and wrapped around Hermione securely. He just managed to catch the pensieve before it hit the stone floor. Hermione fell hard to the side and lay there, completely bound. Severus let her lie there, walking over to the bed with the pensieve and sitting down on it.

He studied the bowl a minute, then looked down at Hermione.

"How do I know you didn't put this together somehow and aren't really trying to kill Tom? He's marked for death already. He knows it. Dumbledore is behind it," Severus hissed at her.

"You are an intelligent wizard in my future," Hermione said to him, her cheek resting on the cold floor, throbbing. "You must have put something in there only you would know about, to prove its validity."

Severus stared at her a moment.

"Don't you move," the wizard snarled at her, placing his wand down on the bed next to him in close proximity, "Don't you even breathe hard. I'm going to view this pensieve…and you'd better hope that it's convincing. Because if it isn't…you're a dead witch. Understand me?"

Hermione nodded, her cheek aching as it rested against the cold, stone floor. She was freezing too, cold air sweeping under the door and washing over her scantily clad body. She hoped the Professor had put what was necessary in the pensieve to make his younger self change his mind about giving Tom Riddle the elixir. If he didn't…it would all be over. She would never return to Hogwarts and Voldemort would eventually take over the wizarding world.

Severus leaned slightly, staring down into the pensieve. Suddenly there was a flash of light and the wizard fell very still. It looked as if he had turned into a pale statue.

For the next hour and a half, Hermione suffered on the floor, shivering but not even daring to shift for fear Severus would start out of the pensieve and kill her. Finally, he stirred, his head lifting, his eyes now appearing much older than he was. He stared into space for a moment, then slowly looked at Hermione.

He stood up, placed the bowl and the pensieve on his nightstand, walked over to the shivering witch and hoisted her off the floor. He carried her over to his bed and dropped her down in it on her back. Hermione looked up at him as his black eyes swept over her bound body. She thought she saw a little flash of lust in them before they became hooded and he sat down, his pale body twisted so he could look at her.

"I don't like you much in the future," he said to her quietly. "You are an irritating little chit. A know-it-all. A pain in the ass. A Gryffindor Golden girl."

Hermione sighed. The Professor had put her in the pensieve too. Thank gods.

"But you're intelligent. You figured how to get back here by yourself. You took a big risk to do this," he said, studying her.

"There's a world to save," Hermione replied.

"Typical Gryffindor response. You are brave to the point of stupidity," Severus said, "Personally, I don't give a fuck about the wizarding world. It's never done anything for me. Or muggles. Or muggle-borns. My father was a muggle, the sick bastard. He beat my mum for years until he finally killed her. The only good thing he ever did was kill himself afterwards."

Hermione listened, horrified. She never knew this about the Professor's past.

"However, I do give a fuck about what happens to me," the wizard added.

The young wizard glanced at the pensieve again, his brow furrowed.

"I believe you," he said, "Or I believe the pensieve. It was the roses that convinced me. I never told anyone about how my father beat me unconscious when I was six years old because I picked all the roses off the veranda to dry for my pretend Potions stores. That was in there," he said softly.

Severus fell silent for several minutes, then looked at Hermione.

"So, there's no power, glory or reward ahead of me if I give Tom the elixir," he said to the witch.

"No. Only years of painful service and spying," she said, "And right now he is so powerful that he will surely take over everything in the next couple of years. And the future you believes that when he does, he will kill you because he will no longer need you."

"Yes, that was in the pensieve too," Severus said quietly. "Still, if I don't give him the elixir, Tom will most likely have me killed. I promised him I had made a breakthrough. He expects me to show him something extraordinary."

"You can take the pensieve to Dumbledore and tell him all you know about Tom. He'll hide you," Hermione said.

Severus looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, I could do that. But, it doesn't mean he won't still rise to power…and I'll be hunted as a deserter and a traitor. I won't be able to live a normal life," he said, more to himself than Hermione.

Severus looked at the pensieve on the nightstand once more, then picked up his wand and blasted it to pieces, Hermione letting out a gasp as the powdered remains floated to the floor, bed, some even settling in her hair. Severus scourgified the remains, then looked at Hermione again.

"That's not an option," he said shortly. "I won't go to Dumbledore. According to the pensieve, he turns me into a spy. I don't want that."

Severus fell silent for several more minutes. Hermione could see he was thinking very hard about his situation. Finally he looked at her again.

"I could be the wizarding world's savior," he said to the witch, "But there will be no reward for me. No one will know or believe what I've done if I stop Tom myself. I deserve a reward if I do this, don't I?"

Hermione nodded, just to agree with him. Severus seemed willing to cooperate, but he still hadn't released her.

"You're the only one who knows that I have the future of the entire wizarding world in my hands, and for the time being, that makes me very important. More important than anyone living," he said to her.

"Yes…it does," Hermione said.

"It makes me…a hero," the wizard purred at her.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Since you are the only one who knows…then it's you who will have to give me my reward. I need to get something out of this," he said to the bound witch.

"Me?" Hermione said with a squeak in her voice.

Severus nodded, picking his wand up off the nightstand. He removed the ropes from Hermione and quickly held her down, removing her time turner from around her neck. He held it up, studying it.

"This is what brought you here. I imagine you will return with it," he said to her.

Hermione sat up in the bed, drawing her knees tight against her chest and wrapping her arms around them protectively.

"Yes," she said shortly.

Severus brought up a finger to spin the turner.

"No!" Hermione cried, lunging forward, stopping him by grabbing his hand. She fell right into his lap, looking up at him and panting.

"Don't spin it. It will take you into another time," she gasped at him.

Then she became aware of a throbbing against her shoulder. Severus was getting an erection. She struggled to get up, but he caught her shoulders.

"As I said, witch…I deserve some reward," he breathed at her. "Will you give me one to save the wizarding world?"

Hermione looked into his dark eyes. They were narrowed, but there was something in the depths that seemed vulnerable. Hermione realized Severus was only seventeen years old without friends or support and had no one but himself. Suddenly, she saw him as the selfless man he became. Cold, hard, sarcastic to the point of cruelty but still willing to give up his own life to stop the Dark Lord. He received no reward for that service either, other than being hexed with Unforgivables and whipped until his flesh hung in ribbons. Her heart went out to him. What he wanted was nothing compared to what he gave. Hermione made her second decision of the night. She was a virgin, but she was going to lose her virginity at some point in time. It might as well be tonight with a wizard who would be an unsung hero. Severus was right. He should get something for ending the madness before it began.

"Yes," she said to the wizard. "I'm willing to give you a reward for saving all of us, Severus Snape."

"Yes," he purred, letting the witch up, his dark eyes glittering hotly as they raked over her body, "Reward me then, Hermione Granger."

Hermione sat up, turned around and backed up in the bed, resting on her knees and looking at Severus. She didn't move.

"What are you waiting for? Get naked," Severus said, standing up and removing his boxers, his cock springing out. It was huge. Hermione's eyes widened and a look of fear crossed her face.

Severus was an observant young wizard. He saw the fear in her eyes.

"You've never done this before, have you?" he asked Hermione.

She shook her head.

Severus sighed.

"I should have known. You're a Gryffindor witch. If you had been in Slytherin, you'd be an expert at sex by now. Our witches aren't nearly as uptight about fucking as those of your house. They use their pussies to their advantage. Well, that doesn't matter. I've popped a cherry before," he said, climbing into the bed, Hermione backing away from him.

She doubted Severus had simply "popped" a cherry. With a cock that big, he probably pulverized it.

Severus stretched out on his back then turned on his side to face her.

"You're scared, but a Gryffindor all the way. Martyring your pussy for the wizarding world," he said to her, chuckling a bit. "Godric Gryffindor would be proud."

Severus began to stroke his cock, Hermione's eyes resting on the thick, pale tool almost mesmerized as the wizard's hand caressed the shaft slowly, his black eyes watching her. Yes, she was scared, but curious.

"Touch it," he hissed at her. "The best way to deal with fear is to face it. Use that legendary Gryffindor courage your house is always howling about," Severus said, mocking her.

Hermione hesitated, then decided the wizard was right. She had agreed to this, and needed to make a good showing for Gryffindor. It was clear to see Severus Snape was Slytherin through and through, and despised the House of Gryffindor. He probably relished the idea of fucking a Gryffindor witch. Slowly, Hermione reached out and touched his cock with her fingertips.

"You call that touching?" Severus said, grabbing her hand and forcing it around his cock, his eyes locked to Hermione's face to see her reaction.

Hermione gasped as she felt his hardness against her palm. The wizard's cock was hot and pulsing gently, but the skin was soft, delicate. It felt like a soft velvet covering an iron pole. She tightened her hold and moved her hand a bit, feeling his flesh slide with it, Severus letting out a little groan as she caressed him.

"That's not so frightening, is it?" he purred at her, reaching for his wand on the nightstand. He pointed it at the witch, Hermione's eyes widening.

"Divesto," he said lazily.

Hermione's bra and knickers disappeared, reappearing on the nightstand. She squealed and covered her breasts, her knees clamping together.

Severus studied her for a moment.

"How am I supposed to get my 'reward' with you covering up like that?" he asked her, "Just lie down."

His voice was smooth and evidenced the beginning silkiness that would one day be able to wet knickers a-plenty just by speaking. But Hermione could hear the impatience and danger beneath it. Young Severus was not a wizard to be played with.

Hermione lowered her hands and laid down beside him on the bed, trying to control the trembling that started. She looked up at the ceiling studiously, waiting for him to do something.

She felt the tip of his wand press below her navel. Severus whispered a contraceptive spell, then replaced his wand on the nightstand. Hermione felt a kind of flipping sensation inside her. Then it was gone. Severus looked at her for a moment, before his eyes rested on her breasts.

"You have big breasts. I like big breasts," Severus said, sitting up and leaning over her. He lowered his mouth to her nipple and drew it in, Hermione squealing and fighting to keep her hands at her sides as his warm lips closed over her tip. Her nipple hardened in his mouth as he suckled her, his other hand going to her other breast, squeezing and fondling it, catching the nipple between his fingers.

Hermione was gasping at the sensation. It felt good, she couldn't deny that as the young wizard switched breasts, his greasy hair falling over her. At least he smelled good. Clean.

Hermione suddenly jerked. Severus had shifted and placed a warm hand on her belly, It was slowly sliding down. She felt his fingertips comb through her pubic hair, and she jerked again. Severus released her breast and looked up at her as he slid his finger between Hermione's labia. She squealed and bucked frantically as he touched her clit, then mashed it. It was like a bolt of electricity shot through her.

"Oh shit!" she gasped, trying to pull away from him.

"Be still!" Severus demanded, his dark eyes resting on her face. "My reward…remember?"

Hermione forced herself to stay put, but he began moving his fingers faster and pleasure began to flood through her, her pelvis beginning to whirl a bit as the young wizard fingered her pussy. Severus watched her.

"You're going to be good," he breathed at her.

He slid his finger lower and felt the small stretch of skin covering Hermione's entrance. She was a virgin all right.

But not for long. Severus stopped fingering Hermione and rolled on top of her. He wasn't yet the lover he was going to be. He was young and impatient. The wizard forced his skinny hips between Hermione's thighs, his cock resting hot, hard and long against her belly. She could feel his pelvic bones as he adjusted himself, pulling back and grabbing her legs, making her raise her knees on either side of him.

Hermione closed her eyes and bit her lip as she felt him press the huge head of his cock against her core, breathing heavily. She clutched the bed, the Slytherin green sheet beneath them gathered in her hands. Severus looked down at her.

"I know I'm ugly," he said to her softly. "Most witches close their eyes when I fuck them. They like my cock but can't stand to look at me."

The wizard sounded bitter as he said this. Hermione opened her eyes.

"That's not why my eyes are closed," she said, "I'm just trying to handle this, Severus. Trying to prepare for the pain. I know it's going to hurt. It's not the way you look. Actually…"

Hermione faltered a moment.

"Actually what?" Severus asked her. When she didn't answer him, he prodded her a bit with his cock, making her gasp at the pressure.

"Actually what?" he asked her again.

"Actually…I have a bit of a crush on you in the future. Your acne clears up and you grow into your body. Your hair is still greasy, but less so…but you have the most beautiful voice, eyes and hands, move so gracefully…and are so skilled…so…dark," she said, her voice dropping again for a moment, before she continued. "Of course, I can't tell your future self that. You'd take a thousand points from me at least and probably humiliate me before throwing me out of the highest turret window at Hogwarts."

Severus did some calculating.

"I'd have to be at least twice your age," he said to her, "Why would you want someone that old?"

Hermione sighed.

"It's your brilliance. I don't do well with wizards my age. They're not engaging enough…" she began.

"You mean intelligent enough," Severus corrected her.

"Yes. All they want to do is shag," Hermione said, "And talk about Quidditch. Try to discuss the rudimentary precepts of the algorithms of Arithmancy, and they just fall apart. I feel I could connect with you on more than a physical level, if I had the chance. You could touch my mind as well as my body."

Severus shook his head slightly. Hermione Granger was different from any witch he'd ever fucked. So she lusted after his future self. She was the first witch who ever said she wanted him for more than a quick fuck…even though it was years in the future. He found himself feeling a bit more kindly toward her.

"I'll remember that," he said softly, lifting his hips, preparing to enter her. He hesitated.

"I'm going to do it now. Hold on to me," the young wizard said.

If Hermione hadn't told him what she did, the Slytherin had intended to just tear into her and take what he wanted, like he did the other witches. But her honesty saved her from that.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Severus' back and closed her eyes again.

"Look at me," he said to her. "I want to see your eyes when I pop your cherry."

Hermione slowly opened them and looked into Severus' sober gaze.

Suddenly the wizard thrust forward, stretching then ripping through her hymen, sliding deep into her tightness with a groan, then a sigh of pleasure as Hermione buckled and screamed, pulling on the wizard because of the burning pain and the feeling she'd been impaled by a staff. Gods, he was so big.

Severus looked down at her as tears rolled from the corner of her eyes. Hermione made a good effort not to cry, but it had hurt. He looked lower and saw his cock buried between her thighs, the lips of her pussy pursed like a small mouth around his pale shaft. He let out a little groan, but held still.

"You're so tight," he said to her, "You feel good, witch. You are an adequate reward."

Slowly, Severus pulled back and gently thrust back into Hermione, the witch sighing at the sensation. She still stung however.

"Still hurt?" Severus asked her.

"Yes," she replied, her voice quavering like a child who was fighting back tears after a spanking.

Severus had no idea how long it took for a virgin to stop hurting. All he knew was he wanted to get down to some serious fucking. He pulled out of Hermione almost completely, only the head of his cock immersed inside her softness, hesitated, then pushed almost his entire length back inside her.

Hermione let out a moan as he filled her. It hadn't stung so much that time and his hardness felt so good…an inner caress followed by a physical check that jerked her body slightly.

"You like this, Hermione Granger, I can tell. I guess not all Gryffindor witches are frigid lesbians," Severus purred at her as Hermione's pussy pulsed around him. "You know, it's said that Gryffindor wizards make such a poor showing sexually, the witches have to turn to each other to find satisfaction."

Severus pulled back and thrust inside Hermione a little harder this time, bumping against her cervix with some force then paused again, staring down at her. Hermione's mouth had dropped open on that one and remained slack. Her pelvis was moving a little too.

The young wizard smirked. He was right. She was going to be good.

"I think you're ready," Severus breathed down at Hermione, beginning to stroke her rhythmically, his stiff member parting her soft flesh over and over, his lips pursed with pleasure as he fucked the witch, his pale ass clenching and unclenching as he drove into her wetness, listening to her soft cries increase in volume.

But her eyes were open and she was looking up at him, wonder, pleasure and desire in her eyes.

"I'm good, aren't I witch?" he asked her, speeding up. "This is a reward for both of us, and most likely the closest you'll ever get to your dream of fucking my future self."

Hermione let out a wail as the wizard slammed into her to drive home the point that this was the best she could get as far as he was concerned. It was obvious he didn't care for her at all in the future. Certainly he protected her as he did all the students at Hogwarts, but there was no part of him that saw Hermione Granger as anything other than a student he would be glad to see graduate and move on.

"Mmmm," he groaned as he felt her tightening around his cock.

Hermione's eyes were closed again, her lips parted as she bounced back and forth under the wizard's stroke. Severus lowered himself for a moment and kissed her, running his tongue around her mouth, tasting her heat and flavor before rising up on his hands again and tearing into her pussy, which Hermione was thrusting back at him, lost to her first possession.

Yes. This witch was very good.

Severus stopped fucking Hermione just long enough to hook her legs over his arms, then folded the witch over, splaying his arms so her thighs were spread as wide as they could possibly go. His cock was still embedded in her core, the witch's pussy stretched around his well-oiled girth. The young wizard pulled back, then drove into Hermione to the hilt, penetrating her deeper yet, the witch letting out a perfectly beautiful shriek as Severus rammed down into her over and over with blinding speed, his loins slapping against her loudly, reddening her inner thighs as he panted and grunted, stretching out his body, his head thrown back in pleasure and dark eyes closed, focusing only on the delicious tightness choking his cock as Hermione drew close to her first orgasm.

Suddenly Hermione stiffened and let out a piercing cry, her eyes flying open as she climaxed, pleasure rippling over her body in waves as Severus cursed and stiffened as well, Hermione's orgasm milking a release from him, the wizard continuing to thrust reflexively into her body as he filled her with his thick, hot sperm.

Spent, Severus dropped on the witch, kissing her once more before he rolled off her quaking body.

Panting, he turned his head toward Hermione, who was panting also, her hair a crazy halo around her head as she came down from her first climax. Presently, her breathing slowed and she turned her head toward Severus, who hadn't taken his black eyes off the witch since he rolled off her body. He smirked at her.

"Now, that was a reward worth a world or two," he said to Hermione, one pale hand moving her hair out of her face so he could see her better and remember her features.

"Definitely worth a world or two, Hermione Granger."

* * *

  
The next night, Severus stood in the small cave Tom Riddle used for his base of operations. He was slowly having it enlarged, and had told Severus of his plans to have a large circular throne room, sparsely furnished, some labs and so forth.

"The riches will come later when I am in control," he told the wizard. Severus already knew he was taking tribute from some of the richer Death Eaters in his ranks, but said nothing.

Tom walked up to Severus and shook his hand. They were alone as they always were when he took Severus' potions. Tom was hiding what he was doing from his followers. Only Severus knew he was trying to increase his power and longevity. Tom warded the cave entrance, sealing it off, Severus watching his motions carefully…memorizing them. When he finished closing off the entrance, Tom turned to Severus.

"You have the elixir?" Tom asked him excitedly.

Severus removed a black bottle with a snake-headed stopper from his pocket.

"Yes. Here it is," Severus said.

Tom looked at it hungrily.

"Are you sure it will work?" Tom asked him, eyeing the impressive packaging. Severus took extra time to make sure it looked powerful and attractive. Image was everything.

"I am positive it will do what it is meant to do," Severus replied evenly

"Very well. What do I need to do? Is there any preparation?" he asked Severus.

The wizard looked at the would-be king.

"The elixir is going to cause you some pain, maybe very great pain as it courses through your body. It is the venom that does it. I would advise you to be strapped into a chair in case you seizure. You may break your own bones if you aren't," the wizard said.

Tom nodded. He wasn't afraid of pain. Severus had already given him two previous elixirs, and he did go through agonizing pain. But his magic was always just a bit stronger when he recovered. Now, supposedly the wizard had made a great breakthrough. It would be worth the pain.

"Very well," Tom said, waving his hand and causing a heavy wooden chair with manacles on the arms and legs to form in mid-air. It fell to the floor, then brackets and bolts appeared, fixing it to the floor.

Tom sat down in the chair.

"Attend me," he said to Severus, who looked at him a bit strangely.

Attend him? Tom never talked like that to him before…as if he were…a servant. Still, Severus locked the manacles around his wrists and ankles. He uncorked the bottle.

"Are you ready?" he asked Tom, his dark eyes somber with purpose.

"Yesss. Very ready, Severus. Ready to become more than what I am. Ready to take my rightful place. Give me the elixir," Tom replied, his eyes shining with lust.

Severus tilted the bottle to Tom's mouth. The restrained wizard drank it down greedily, despite how horrible it tasted. When he finished, Severus took the bottle away.

"How long before it takes effect?" Tom asked him…then suddenly let out a horrible scream and began convulsing, his eyes rolling up into his head.

"Not long," Severus smirked, remembering his future self hanging a foot off the floor while Tom as Voldemort scourged his back unmercifully, blood running down his legs.

Tom shook in the chair so strongly, it creaked as the wizard choked and groaned, pulling up his fingernails as he gripped the wooden ends of the arms. Spittle began to flow from his mouth, pouring down his robes, then it turned red.

Suddenly the wizard's lips drew back from his gnashing teeth several times…he was chewing his own tongue. A piece dropped out into his lap, and he convulsed twice more, then fell still. Those few pinches of deadly Nightshade really did the trick when combined with snake venom. Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a long dagger.

He walked up to Tom Riddle and without hesitation, slit his throat…just to make sure he was dead. Then he opened Tom's robe, pulled up his shirt and proceeded to make a deep, vertical cut in his abdomen. He retrieved a small, double-sided mirror out of his pocket and pushed it deep inside the wizard. Mirrors were used to halt magical resurrections, even those using the darkest magic. Severus wasn't sure if Tom had somehow managed to find a way to come back from the dead, but by the way he talked about immortality, it was possible.

Better safe than sorry. He didn't want to chance running into a reanimated and very angry wizard. Using his wand, Snape sealed the wound cleanly, pulled down Tom's shirt and refastened his robes. The mirror wouldn't be found. They didn't do autopsies in the wizarding world. Dead was dead.

There was no remorse in Severus' black eyes as he wiped the blade of his knife on the dead wizard's robes then put it back in his pocket.

Severus then unwarded the cave entrance, exited and left it open so Tom's body would easily be discovered. No one would suspect him. He disapparated back to Hogwarts.

His would not be a life of servitude.

Years later, Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding, sat at the staff table with a bored expression on his face as Minerva McGonagall led a group of nervous first years in. Severus scanned the group, and his eyes fell on a black-haired boy with round glasses that was the spitting image of James Potter.

"Oh good gods," Severus breathed, frowning. "Not another Potter."

James Potter and Lily Evans married when they left Hogwarts, James getting a spot as a seeker on the Bigonville Bombers Quidditch team. The last Severus heard, they had a brood of children whose numbers were only rivaled by the Weasleys. This boy must be the oldest.

He listened as Dumbledore droned his usual first-year address, then watched as the filthy Sorting Hat was brought out then suffered through another dreadful annual song. The hat sung at every Sorting, then obviously spent the rest of the school year thinking up more horrible lyrics for the next term. When it finished, Severus clapped with everyone else, not in appreciation, but because the song was over.

Minerva mounted the dais and stood next to a wooden stool on which the hat sat. Didn't they ever wash that ratty old thing? Greasy as his hair was, Severus would never allow that hat on his head for even a moment. The gods only knew what was crawling around inside it after a few centuries.

"Hannah Abbot!" Professor McGonagall called out. A chubby and rather dull looking red-haired girl walked up and sat on the stool. Minerva lowered the disgusting chapeau on to her head.

After a moment the Sorting Hat called out, "Hufflepuff!"

"That figures," Severus thought as the girl hopped off the stool and headed for the Hufflepuff table, the other students greeting her.

Severus watched as a couple more students were sorted. Then Professor McGonagall called out a name that made him stiffen.

"Hermione Granger!"

Severus watched as a small, bushy-haired, buck-toothed little girl marched purposely out of the crowd of first years without hesitation, then almost ran to the dais, hopping up on the stool and looking very excited.

"Gryffindor!" the hat announced.

Hermione Granger squealed with delight, clasping her hands together and sprinting for the Gryffindor table…Severus staring after her.

After a few years, Severus began to believe that Hermione Granger's appearance had been some kind of sensate vision warning him about Tom Riddle's treachery. When time turners were invented, he also attributed this to a bout of true divination. But now…now he realized that this had been no vision. Hermione Granger was as real as he was. That little girl smiling at all of her new housemates was the young woman he took his pleasure with the night before he killed Voldemort. She didn't look much like she would when she grew up, but when she turned a certain way…Severus could see it.

"Harry Potter!" Minerva called out.

Harry Potter marched up to the dais and sat down, his eyes upturned as the hat was lowered on his head. It barely made contact before it called out his house.

"Slytherin!"

All of the teachers on the dais murmured about this as Harry Potter walked over to the Slytherin table and was welcomed into their ranks. Harry was the son of two Gryffindors! How in the world could this happen?

Severus' mind was immediately taken off of Hermione as he looked at his newest first year. A slow, nasty smile crossed his face as he eyed James Potter's son. Harry was in his house, and under his influence.

"Payback is a bitch, James Potter," Severus thought as Harry's eyes met his and the boy nodded a greeting. Severus nodded back.

Harry Potter would make a fine Slytherin. He'd be every bit as resourceful, devious and self-serving as the rest of his housemates. Maybe even a bit more so.

Severus smiled again.

He would make sure of it.

* * *

  
A/N: This is just something that popped into my head tonight. So I took a break and wrote it out. I haven't read any Time Turner stories really, so I have no idea how original this is. Most likely, it contains a lot of the same elements as others do. I didn't include lemons because I am trying to focus on the upcoming lemons in Emmet's story. I thought implied would work well enough this time. This story is going to stay a one-shot, but I could imagine it happening this way. Thanks for reading.

A/A/N: This is now a story. Updates will be sporadic, but I'm working on it.


	2. The Return

**Chapter 2 The Return**

As the world spun around her, Hermione Granger felt rather odd. Traveling by Time Turner was always disorienting, but this was almost like she was tripping on some kind of hallucinatory drug. Images of her life were all around her, overlapping, melting, flying at her, whirling and fading, and things that never happened were suddenly happening and the familiar became unfamiliar, then suddenly familiar, replaced by a completely new reality. She saw Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Hagrid, a three-headed dog, a basilisk in a small mirror, and now she was a cat-thing, now she was flying on a hippogriff, now Ron was being dragged away by a huge black dog, screaming at the top of his lungs as he clutched his rat Scabbers. The reality of her life was being broken like a jigsaw puzzle, bits and pieces of her past taken apart and rearranged to form another complete and different picture.

A picture that included nothing concerning a despot named Voldemort, nor a close friendship with a boy named Harry Potter.

In fact, Harry Potter was a bloody, insensitive git of a Slytherin.

So he was quite surprised when a nearly nude Hermione Granger appeared in his Head Boy room with only her wand in her hand.

The boy-who-always-lived had been looking at some nude pictures of Pansy Parkinson that his friend Draco Malfoy had slipped to him. He'd taken them without her knowledge while shagging her from behind.

Her face wasn't anything special, but her body . . . it was more than passable.

So Harry was already randy when Hermione appeared. He sat up and adjusted his glasses as Hermione looked at him with round eyes, so startled to be here she made no attempt to cover herself.

"Granger!" Harry said, standing up immediately and grabbing his wand off the nightstand next to his bed.

"Potter? What am I doing here?" she demanded, her brown eyes narrowing.

"I don't know what you're doing here," the wizard said, his green eyes drifting down her body, his mouth twisting into a leer, "but it's pretty obvious to me why you're here. I never knew you were into snakes, Granger. And to think I thought you hated me."

"What? Are you insane? I do hate you!" Hermione hissed, then looked down at herself and gave a little scream. "Oh my gods!"

She started to flick her wand at herself to charm up some robes when Harry pointed his own at her and cried, "Petrificus Totalus!" freezing her in place and catching her before she fell. He dragged her over to his bed and let her topple into it, face first before rolling her to her back

He pulled her wand out of her stiff hand and stared down at her.

"You don't think I'm going to let such an opportunity pass just because you got cold feet, Granger. It's obvious you came here to get shagged, and I'm an equal opportunity Slytherin. I'd do someone from Gryffindor house just as easily as someone from Slytherin."

Hermione watched in silent, frozen horror as Harry took off his glasses, put them and her wand on his nightstand and began to unbutton his robes.

"I might have to Obliviate you afterwards," the wizard said, pulling his robes open and revealing a tented pair of Slytherin green boxers.

"No! No!" Hermione screamed internally, unable to move as he began to slip his robes off his shoulders.

Suddenly the door to his bedroom door flew open and in walked Professor Severus Snape, his black eyes narrowed as he looked at his Slytherin and the young woman petrified on his bed.

"What are you doing with a witch in your room, Mr. Potter?" he asked him silkily.

Harry reddened and quickly adjusted his robes.

"I . . . I . . . er," he said lamely, trying to come up with something.

Snape swept by him, pointed his wand at Hermione and hissed, "Finite Incantatem," releasing her from the spell, then flicking his wand at her, covering her in black robes as she sat up and grabbed her wand off the nightstand. She immediately pointed it at Harry.

"I should hex your bloody balls off!" she snarled at Harry.

"Now, Miss Granger, if you would kindly tell me what occurred, I will be happy to punish Mr. Potter if he did anything untoward. Tell me, did he force you to come here? Kidnapped you, perhaps?" the Potions master purred, perfectly aware Harry hadn't.

Hermione lowered her wand.

"Ah, I can't say. I don't know. It seems as if I were suddenly just here," Hermione said, her eyes confused.

"I didn't bring her here. I swear, professor. She just appeared, dressed like she was. I thought . . . I thought she wanted me to give her a go. What else was I to think?" Harry said to Snape, who shook his head slightly. He really had done a job on the boy. He had practically no conscience or scruples.

"And that's why you had her under the Petrificus Totalus spell?" he asked the boy, who reddened.

"I just didn't want her moving around too much," Harry lied.

Snape arched an eyebrow at him.

"I'll deal with you later, Mr. Potter. Apparently, you have a lot to learn when it comes to engaging witches. Now, come along Miss Granger. I will escort you to Gryffindor Tower," he said to the witch softly.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Hermione said gratefully, scowling at Harry before walking out of the door.

Snape looked at him.

"What goes on in Slytherin, stays in Slytherin, Mr. Potter. If I hear a word of this incident outside of this room by anyone, you will be reported to the Headmaster and consequently, to the Ministry. I know what you were intending to do, and attempted rape is just as much a crime as rape itself. I know you don't want to be cooling your heels in Azkaban for an act you didn't have the chance to complete," he said to his charge.

"No sir," Harry said, hanging his head. "I won't say a word to anyone."

"See that you don't. I'll get back to you later," the wizard said, exiting the room.

Hermione was standing just outside of it. Snape studied her for a moment, then flicked his wand at her, coldness washing over her body as he Disillusioned her.

"This is much simpler than having you walk through the Slytherin Common room in all your Gryffindor glory," the wizard purred, pressing a hand to the young woman's back and guiding her up the hall.

Together they passed through the Slytherin Common Room, the students looking at their Head of House curiously as he passed with an obviously disillusioned person in tow. But they knew better than to ask who it was. If Snape wanted them to know, the person wouldn't be Disillusioned. They returned to what they were doing as Snape and his nearly invisible companion walked up the damp corridor to the Slytherin entrance and out into the dungeons proper.

Snape stopped in front of his office door, opened it and gestured for the witch to go in. Hermione entered and he followed behind her, closing the door, then removing the Disillusionment spell from the witch.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" professor Snape asked her, concern in his dark eyes.

"Yes, I am. Thank you sir. If you hadn't arrived when you did, I . . . I don't know what would have happened," she said to him softly.

"I do," he said to her thoughtfully, "I guess you didn't think everything through . . . such as what would happen on your return."

Hermione blinked at the wizard. Professor Snape was her favorite teacher. He was always patient and reasonable with her, despite how harsh he was with everyone else. If professor Snape could be said to have a "Teacher's Pet," Hermione Granger was definitely it. Most thought it was because she was so blasted smart that he treated her as he did. Not once in all seven terms had he taken points from her in the classroom or assigned her detention. She was the only Gryffindor in the school who passed through his class totally unscathed. And he gave her as many extra assignments as she asked for.

The wizard was grooming Hermione to be his first apprentice. She was more than capable of becoming a fine Potions mistress, and he intended to make her a success.

She had changed the course of his life after all, and Severus Snape never forgot a kindness.

"What do you mean I didn't think everything through, professor?" the Gryffindor asked him, her brown eyes sober.

Snape quirked his lip at her.

"Suffice it to say, Miss Granger, I did think it through, and that's why I was able to be there in your time of need," he said cryptically. "One day, I'll tell you a story. After you leave the confines of Hogwarts . . . then you'll understand what happened today. Until that time, I ask you not to make mention of this incident to anyone. If you do, you will never know the truth of the matter," he said to her softly.

She looked just as she did the night she came to him, and he couldn't help feeling some attraction to the young witch. He'd had her before. Possibly, he'd have her again once she graduated.

Hermione blinked at him, confused but curious. But she trusted professor Snape implicitly, despite everyone else's low opinion of him. He was a good teacher and she knew it. The only reason he was so harsh was because Potions was an exacting science, and errors could cost lives. She didn't understand why no one else could see that. He didn't yell at her because she listened carefully and applied herself.

Well, that's what she had thought. In another world and another timeline, she would have caught just as much hell as anyone else, and maybe a bit more.

"All right, professor, but . . . but you will tell me, won't you?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said, reaching out and drawing the Time Turner over her head. Hermione didn't even realize she had one on.

"A Time Turner? What in the world was I doing with that?" she asked him.

"You'll find out at the proper time. Now let me get you back to Gryffindor tower," the wizard said solicitously, opening the door and letting the witch out, his black eyes resting on her thoughtfully as he followed.

* * *

Hermione had just made it back to her room, when suddenly she felt a sharp pain between her legs and let out a shriek. It felt like something had impaled her. It was a quick pain, and then it was gone.

She quickly removed her robes, pulled down the front of her knickers and slipped her fingers between her thighs. When she pulled back her hand . . . there was blood on it.

Her period had ended a week ago. Frightened, she went to see Poppy.

* * *

After examining Hermione, Poppy looked at her soberly, then told her to get dressed and exited through the privacy curtain. Hermione put on her clothing and sat on the end of the cot. Poppy returned, her arms full of pamphlets among other things.

"Here," the medi-witch said, frowning at Hermione slightly. "Read through this material. It's all about protecting yourself from pregnancy and wizarding STDs. And here is a contraceptive patch, put it on and be sure to come back next month to have it replaced."

"What? I don't need these!" Hermione gasped, "I'm not sexually active!"

Poppy arched an eyebrow at her.

"Miss Granger, I know that it can be embarrassing to let others know you aren't pristine, but it happens in the heat of passion. My examination shows only that you've been recently deflowered. There is no ejaculate however, which leads me to think you must have had second thoughts and not completed the act," Poppy said evenly.

"But no . . . I didn't! I swear Madame Pomfrey. I haven't had sex with anyone," she declared, her eyes round.

Poppy simply shook her head.

"Perhaps you were engaging in a bit of self-gratification then," the medi-witch suggested.

Hermione turned all kinds of colors.

"No! I wasn't," the young witch said, mortified.

"Well, something went in there," Poppy said, "whether you admit it or not. Denial isn't an answer, Miss Granger. I've seen enough deflowered young women to know the signs of penetration. However it happened, your hymen has been broken and recently. I suggest you put on that patch and read those pamphlets. You can return to your house now."

The medi-witch exited the enclosure, and Hermione sat there with a bewildered look on her face. She hadn't had sex with anyone and she didn't insert things inside her, although she had masturbated on a couple of occasions, just because she liked how it felt. But that was just rubbing.

She hopped off the cot, reduced everything Poppy brought her and exited the Medical Ward, thoroughly confused.

This had been the strangest day of her life.

* * *

A/N: This came to me this morning. I'm going to have to backpedal though, because I want to show how different life was in Hogwarts and the wizarding world when Hermione was growing up, who she now associates with, her run-ins with Harry and Draco . . . if Ron is anywhere in the picture, if she is as social now as she was in the other timeline, things of that nature. There won't be fast updates, but there will be updates. Thanks for reading.


	3. The Problem with Paradox

**Chapter 3 – The Problem with Paradox**

Severus Snape sat in his private study in front of the fireplace, a glass of Firewhiskey on the small table between two armchairs and the wizard occupying one of those chairs, his large nose firmly in a book.

The title of the book was "Paradoxically Speaking" by Matera Thyme.

It was a book of theories about time travel. There was no definite, hard evidence as to exactly how it worked, some theories stating that traveling in time would cause a permanent loop, others stating when the point of paradox was reached, the world would explode and so forth.

Snape hadn't been sure what would occur when Hermione reached the paradox point of when she returned to the present world, but he did know the date and time she left him and trusted that not to have changed, because the rising and setting of the sun and the earth's spin were immutable, unchangeable unless one was a god.

He also knew in the past timeline, Harry Potter was dead and not the Head boy. But in this timeline he was, so she would end up in the Head boy quarters with a very different Head boy. In this reality, Harry and Hermione didn't get along at all. She had been a target of his and Draco Malfoy from the very beginning of her term at Hogwarts. So the Potions master knew that their meeting up would most likely not go well, and made sure to be at Potter's room at the proper time.

And the world didn't blow up.

Seeing Hermione return safely made the wizard ascribe to the Alternate Universe theory, but with some interesting premises of his own, based on observation. If Hermione had been a full-blooded witch, she might have caused more disruption in the timeline than she did, tampering somehow with her own past. But she came from a line of Muggles, so there was no effect on her world at all when Voldemort died. There were no sudden survivors or additional siblings. She didn't enter the wizarding world until age eleven and her parents hadn't been affected by Voldemort or the wizarding world at all. A pureblood could have caused great changes.

Plus, Hermione didn't belong in that alternate past, and her appearance in it was a very small ripple that dispersed when she returned to her own time. She had only interacted with him, so there were no residual changes emanating from any other encounter. What her appearance had done was to set another alternate time line into linear existence, the original timeline fading into the realm of possibility.

If time were seen as a flowing river, Hermione's appearance would be shown as a new branch of the river flowing parallel to the original. Imagine that original river being blocked at the mouth, the only way forward would be to navigate that new branch which would reconnect to the original timeline at the point Hermione returned to the past.

When she met his younger self, that was the point at which the river of time formed a new branch and closed off the old one. Hermione was not part of that branch because she didn't stay but returned to her past, an altered past that followed the new timeline.

Everything changed but she did not acknowledge that change because everything from where she stood seemed a quite normal progression of time, as it did for everyone with the exception of Snape, who knew the timeline had changed. He was the only one aware of it, because he knew what happened originally.

What had concerned the wizard was what would happen to the witch once the new timeline caught up to the point where she went back in time? Would it end?

Obviously not, because the new timeline was now a reality, and the old timeline only an alternate possibility. In other words, a shadow . . . insubstantial, unable to touch or interact with the new reality physically.

At least for those who had not disrupted the timeline.

Snape's brow furrowed.

Hermione might be physically set in this reality, but man was more than a body. His mind could freely travel to the past, present and future with just a thought and without the body moving from the place in space it occupied. The mind wasn't relegated to the present. Linear thinking could be changed quite easily. And he was relatively sure that if there were to be any change in this reality, it would only be in Hermione Granger's mind.

In other words, she would become aware of the alternate timeline, and possibly remember it, even if it never happened in this reality. Hopefully, she wouldn't be hit with those memories all at once. She had seemed fine on her return, if befuddled by exactly why she was in Potter's room.

He had wanted to get to her for precisely that reason. She could have returned babbling like an idiot, wanting to know how Harry was alive.

Fortunately, that didn't happen.

Yet.

Maybe there was some safeguard, some temporal protection in the brain that kept her from being deluged with alternate memories. The human mind was an amazing thing and quite adaptable. It was very possible that those alternate memories were stored in her subconscious. But would they stay there?

Snape was of the mind that they wouldn't since she was now at the point of paradox, physically overlapping a single moment in time from two perspectives. If his theory was correct, then those memories would return to her. From what he'd seen today, she wasn't conscious of them . . . yet.

But how did the subconscious mind make itself known? Through images. Through dreams.

The Potions master sighed and closed the book, finishing his Firewhiskey.

He had a feeling Hermione Granger wouldn't be sleeping well for a long, long time.

* * *

In her bed, Hermione Granger tossed and turned, caught up in a strange dream. She was in the Head boy room, with a tall, pale young wizard, quite thin with long black hair and sharp black eyes. They were talking, but she couldn't hear what was said, and everything seemed stuttered, jerky.

Suddenly the wizard was on top of her, talking to her. Finally, she was able to focus on his face . . .

Suddenly Hermione tangled up in the bed sheets wildly, flailing and arching upward before she awoke, covered in sweat, her entire body tingling as she sat up and wrapped her arms around herself, breathing heavily.

She had dreamed about Professor Snape! But . . . he was young, around her own age. And she was having sex with him.

"Oh my gods," she breathed, unable to shake the feeling. The dream had been so lucid, so . . . so real.

"Am I having erotic dreams about professor Snape?" she asked herself, falling back on the bed.

Hermione did have a small crush on the older wizard, but thought it was rather normal for a student to feel attracted to a brilliant teacher. It was a classic crush case, nothing she ever remotely thought about pursuing. Professor Snape would never be interested in her that way, and she didn't want to ruin a good teacher/student relationship.

But then again, she had never dreamed about him so erotically before. It had to be her subconscious working at her. She believed it was, making him younger so it would be more . . . well . . . possible that he would engage her sexually. It made the fantasy more feasible, logical. Hermione didn't doubt a bit of logic could creep into her dreams.

But, wow. Wouldn't her mind have prettied him up a bit? He wasn't anyway as near as attractive as he was now. He was skinny, gangly and had acne. He still had those beautiful dark eyes however, long lashed and penetrating. Still, she had felt . . . pleasure.

Slowly, she lay back down, sure it was just her mind acting out. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any more dreams of shagging a young Professor Snape.

It was . . . disturbing.

Unfortunately, her hopes were dashed, and she spent the entire night being ridden by the young dark wizard, hearing him speak but not being able to understand him.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was awakened from a fitful sleep by a knocking on her door. Tired and irritable she yelled, "Who is it?"

"It's Neville," Neville Longbottom called through the door, his brow furrowed at how crabby the witch sounded. "I've come to walk you to breakfast."

Neville and Hermione had been friends since they first met on the Hogwarts Express. He had lost his toad and familiar, Trevor. She helped him look for it. She had met Harry Potter and Ron in one of the cars, and Ron was trying to turn his rat Scabbers yellow.

Harry and Ron had been friends for years, meeting each other when they were children. Harry liked Ron all right, but his family was so poor. Back then, sometimes Harry was ashamed to be seen with Ron, because all his clothes were second hand and patched and it seemed people looked down on him and his family. Still, he played with him. Ron was enamored of Harry and his family because his father was a seeker for the Bigonville Bombers Quidditch team. Because he knew James Potter, naturally the Bigonville Bombers were his favorite team.

It was cool to have a friend whose father was famous.

Hermione had thrown the doors open and asked if they had seen Neville's toad, then commented on Ron's poor spell work and told them her name. Harry scowled at her, thinking she looked like a chipmunk with those big front teeth, but reluctantly gave her his name. Ron did likewise. Then she left.

"She's going to be a horror," Ron commented after the bossy little witch left. "Did you see her hair? What a mess!"

Harry stuck out his front teeth and made chipmunk noises. Ron nearly fell apart with laughter.

"Let's hope she doesn't bite," he quipped.

No, they hadn't gotten off to a stellar start at all. But Neville was nice. He was short and rather pudgy, but he was a proper wizard and made sure Hermione didn't feel ostracized. She was smart and he really admired her for that. People started to pick at her because she was so vocal and so brilliant and it was Neville who stood up for her, threatening to do some bodily harm to anyone who hurt her feelings.

In fact, he and Ron got into a scrap when Ron said what a terror she was after Charms class, when Hermione tried to help him by telling him how to pronounce the Wingardium Leviosa spell.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Dean Thomas as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Neville had been walking behind them and frowned when suddenly someone knocked into him as they hurried past. He heard a small sob and saw it was Hermione. Now Neville really scowled and caught up to Ron.

"Hermione heard you, you know," the Gryffindor said, "you made her cry."

Ron shrugged carelessly and laughed, as did Dean.

"So?" said Ron, grinning at Neville. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

"She does have friends. I'm her friend," Neville snarled at him.

"That's probably why you're not so popular either," the redhead said, "Granger is a big, fat show-off and nobody likes her, including me. She tries to make everyone think she's smarter than real witches and wizards when she's only a bloody Mud—"

That's as far as Ron got before Neville punched him square in the mouth. The brawl was pretty bad and broken up by Professor Snape. Once he found out why they had been fighting, they both received detentions.

Neville received one detention and lost five points. Ron on the other hand, received three detentions, and lost fifteen points. Ron scowled after Snape as he billowed away.

"The greasy bat. Neville started it," he groused as he headed for supper.

Neville found Hermione in the girl's bathroom and comforted the crying witch.

"Don't pay any attention to Ronald Weasley, Hermione. He's a prat and jealous because you are better at magic than he is," the young wizard said to the sniffling witch, handing her a bit of tissue. "You do have friends. I'm your friend and I'll always be your friend, don't worry. I think you're brilliant."

Hermione wiped at her eyes.

"Really Neville?" she asked him.

Neville nodded.

"Really, and I'll knock the block off any bloke who gives you a hard time," he added, reaching inside his robes and pulling out a pumpkin pastie. "Here, eat this."

Hermione took it from Neville gratefully and smiled at him through her tears.

"Thanks, Neville," she said softly.

"Aw, it's nothing," he replied and they sat together in the bathroom for a long while before returning to Gryffindor tower.

Ron was in the Common Room, playing Wizarding chess when they entered together. He scowled at Neville, then turned away. He had a huge shiner.

"What happened to Ron?" she asked Neville, who shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe someone got tired of his big mouth," he replied.

"Good for them," Hermione said, frowning as Neville escorted her to the stairs that led to the girl's dormitory. "He's a git."

Neville Longbottom was much different in this timeline than he was in the former one. He had been raised by his parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were both Aurors. Without his grandmother's constant browbeating and put-downs, Neville grew into a confident, strong young wizard with a strong sense of fairness and a hatred of bullies. He didn't mind a scrap or two. His dad had shown him some moves and he was a fair fighter. He was sure his parents wouldn't give him too hard a time when he told them why he punched Ron Weasley. Picking on a witch wasn't Quidditch.

Neville was treated quite differently by Professor Snape as well in this timeline. He still caught hell from the wizard if he messed up in class, but he wasn't singled out and maligned, and Snape never tried to poison his toad Trevor. And Neville wasn't half bad in Potions, or any class really, because he studied with Hermione and she scheduled his time accordingly. They were fast friends all through school.

Snape saw Neville as a good influence on Hermione, and that he was protective of her, so he cut the Gryffindor some slack. It was obvious that Hermione's brilliance was going to make life difficult at Hogwarts. Hopefully she wouldn't dumb herself down to be more acceptable. To Snape's relief, she didn't. He was very pleased at that.

Hermione stretched and scratched her bum, then said, "Neville, go ahead down to breakfast. I've got to shower and get ready."

"How about I wait for you in the Common Room? It's still early," Neville said through the door. He liked to make sure Hermione ate. She had a habit of skipping meals when she was rushed.

"I suppose telling you no wouldn't make a difference," she called back.

Neville smiled.

"Not a bit," he said with a grin. He heard Hermione give an exasperated sigh.

"All right, I'll be down in fifteen minutes," she said.

"I'll be waiting," Neville replied, leaving to go and wait for the witch.

Hermione walked into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a riot of curly tangles and she had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.

"I look awful," she breathed, picking up her toothbrush. "Neville's going to be clucking over me like a hen."

Hermione and Neville were close, but just friends. Neville had a thing for Luna Lovegood, something Hermione just marveled over. Luna was smart, she was a Ravenclaw . . . but she had the oddest ideas. Hermione tried on numerous occasions to debate the witch over some of her beliefs, like the existence of the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Hermione thought it was "elusive" because it didn't exist, but Luna was simply just too mellow to engage in any furious arguments, stating there wouldn't be so many documented sightings if the creature wasn't real.

"We can just agree to disagree, can't we Hermione?" Luna would say to her as Neville stared at the blonde witch with his chin in his hand and sighed dreamily. He was too tongue-tied to tell her he liked her, so admired her from afar. She was the only witch who made him feel that way.

Luna was really special.

"I'll say," Hermione would snort.

Hermione took a shower and tried to look perky and bright. She wasn't in the mood for Neville's lectures.

He might threaten to take away her books again.

* * *

When Hermione and Neville entered the Great Hall for breakfast, Snape studied the witch, noting the circles under her eyes and the tired look about her as she sat down.

It was clear she hadn't slept well at all.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter. Man, I couldn't help it because I kept thinking about the issue of paradox with Time Travel. I had to go to some sites about it, and locked on to the Alternate Timeline theory, adding a few of my own thoughts. It's not completely feasible, but how could it be? Lol. Still it makes a little sense . . . I just hope I explained it clearly enough. I have a diagram of the timeline as I imagine it at **theburningpen . com **site in the first chapter of this story if anyone wants more clarification. Sometimes seeing it illustrated helps. Anyway, Neville is cool isn't he? I always wondered what he'd be like if his grandmother hadn't raised him. Now, I get a chance to see. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	4. The Team of Potter and Snape

**Chapter 4 The Team of Potter and Snape**

If Hermione Granger was professor Snape's pet, then Harry Potter was his protégé. From the first, the Slytherin set out to make Harry feel he was something special. When the young wizard had his first flying lesson with Madam Hooch, Snape made it a point to watch him fly from a turret window. As he suspected, he was already quite a talented flyer . . . but it was obvious the boy was holding back.

Now, we couldn't have that could we?

The following Saturday, a sober-faced Severus Snape entered the Common Room and retrieved Harry, who was playing a game of Wizarding chess with Draco Malfoy.

"Come with me, Mr. Potter," he commanded.

Harry paled. What had he done?

"Good luck, Harry," Draco said under his breath, sure that Harry was in trouble. Professor Snape only retrieved people when they were in deep dragon dung.

Harry followed Snape out of Slytherin house and through the damp dungeon corridor. Snape stopped in front of his office.

"Wait here, Mr. Potter," the wizard said, letting himself in.

After a moment, Snape returned, holding two broomsticks and a small box. He handed a gleaming and obviously new broom to Harry, who stared at it, his green eyes round behind his glasses.

"This . . . this is a Nimbus 2000!" he exclaimed as if Snape didn't already know that.

"Indeed it is, Mr. Potter," Snape replied, carrying his own Nimbus. "Now follow me."

Snape walked a bit further down the corridor, then pressed on a number of stones. The wall slid back, then to the side, revealing a hidden niche.

"Wow," Harry breathed as he followed Snape in.

The wall closed behind them and Snape walked forward, tapping his wand to several more bricks in a pattern. He did it slowly so Harry could see what he did. He was showing him castle secrets.

"Tell no one about this exit to the grounds, Mr. Potter. You may find it . . . useful," Snape said.

Harry nodded as a door appeared and they walked outside. The sky was overcast.

"Come, we are going to the Quidditch pitch. I want to see what you can do with a proper broom," Snape said to the boy.

Harry was excited. He had wanted to try a Nimbus of any year for a long time, but his parents would never get him one. They told him he'd have to earn it with good marks at Hogwarts. Harry hadn't been happy about that. It could take forever. He knew his mum wanted almost perfect marks. That was a lot of work to do when everything was so new and begging for exploration. He followed Snape excitedly, wishing they could just fly there.

But Severus wanted to build the boy's anticipation.

"Your father was a fair flyer, Mr. Potter," the wizard said softly. "He had quite a number of 'moves' on a broom. He was very impressive."

Snape scowled as he said this, but Harry didn't see it.

"I am wondering if you have the same skills . . . or better ones," Snape purred, "if you are as good a flyer or better than your father, that broom will be yours."

Harry could hardly believe it.

"Really?" Harry squeaked, caressing the broom handle covetously.

"Truly, although there are certain conditions. You will serve as seeker for Slytherin house," Snape replied, "but only if you show me you are a better flyer than our current seeker. I have no doubt you have your father's sharp eyes, despite your glasses."

"Oh, I can always find the snitch," Harry said brightly, "my dad and I used to practice all the time. I've been catching Snitches since I was five."

"Naturally," Snape intoned. Yes, James Potter was the kind of swollen-headed git that would put a very young child on a broom and let him nearly kill himself trying to learn the basics of Quidditch. Fortunately for Harry, he inherited his father's abilities.

Snape fully intended to take advantage of them as well as undermine his parents. A Nimbus 2000 wasn't a cheap broom by any means. More than likely they would want Harry to give it back. The Potions master smirked.

That would cause the first of many rifts between himself and his parents. And who would be there to support him?

Severus Snape of course. A very understanding Severus Snape.

They arrived at an empty Quidditch pitch. Snape had secured it specifically to work with Harry. He was wasting no time. The boy would be properly Slytherinized.

"Mount up and take a few turns around the pitch so I can see your flying style," Snape instructed.

Smiling broadly, Harry mounted the Nimbus 2000, pausing to admire it once more before kicking off and zooming into the air. Wow, the broom was fast, faster than anything he had ever flown before. He leaned low and poured on the speed, whipping around the pitch, his robes and hair streaming as Snape looked on, his black eyes glinting.

The boy was fast.

Snape waved him in and Harry zoomed down, pulling up short and hovering in front of the wizard.

"Do you know any 'tricks,' Mr. Potter?" Snape asked him.

Harry smiled broadly and nodded. He knew tricks that gave his mum heart failure on several occasions and his dad had forbidden him to do them, because they were so dangerous.

Harry's face clouded.

"My father told me not to do them," he said sullenly.

Snape smirked at him.

"But your father isn't here, Mr. Potter. I am. And I will have my wand trained on you in case anything goes awry. You are a Slytherin, Mr. Potter. As such you are to be cunning and resourceful and work toward your own ends. You do want that broom, don't you?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well, in order to get it, you are going to have to bend the rules a bit. Your parents will never know. But no pressure, Mr. Potter. We can return to the dungeons and say no more about this," Snape said, his eyes glittering as he tempted the boy.

Harry caressed the Nimbus' gleaming handle, then looked at Snape with determination in his eyes.

"All right, I'll do it," he said, then zoomed off.

Snape watched as Harry executed a number of very dangerous moves. Standing on the broomstick while it flew full speed, diving at the ground full throttle and pulling out just before bone-crunching impact, weaving between the support beams, large loopity-loops and circling the Quidditch pitch flying upside down a mere six inches from the ground.

Snape opened the small box he carried and removed a small golden ball. Immediately airy little wings emerged and it rose from his palm. Harry saw the snitch and stopped mid-air, excited, eager and expectant as a dog about to play fetch. If he had a tail, it would be wagging madly.

"Get the snitch, Mr. Potter. You have two minutes," Snape called to him as the snitch whirred off into the sun. Harry zoomed after it, his eyes squinting. The snitch was very small and hard to see, but Harry locked on to it in about forty-five seconds, then the chase was on.

It was good thing the boy had skills because that snitch gave him a run for his galleons. It zipped and bobbed and dipped, making straight runs, turning back on its path, dodging the pursuing wizard as if it could see him.

But Harry could pull up and spin mid-air and stayed with it as Snape watched approvingly. Even he could see that Harry at age eleven was an advanced flyer. Even his father didn't have his son's skills at such a tender age. Yes, he would make him a seeker . . . the only first year seeker in the history of Hogwarts. That would be an accomplishment that would overshadow his father's fame at the school.

It would make Harry feel special, as well as 'better' than his father.

That was precisely what Snape wanted.

Harry caught the snitch and flew down to Snape, panting as he held out his hand victoriously.

Snape nodded with approval and gave Harry a thin smile.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You've earned yourself a broom," he purred, mounting his own Nimbus now. "Now let's try this again, with myself as a rival seeker. You must catch the snitch before I do. Release it."

Harry did so and blinked as professor Snape zoomed off so quickly, it looked as if he had Apparated from point A to point B. He zoomed up. Both wizards hovered in the air, searching for the small golden globe. Suddenly, Snape whooshed downward and Harry followed, hot on his bristles.

Snape leveled off, flying about three feet above the ground, his robes and hair streaming as Harry followed closely. Suddenly the dark wizard spun mid-air, colliding with Harry's broom and knocking Harry off of it, the boy bouncing across the ground painfully as the wizard hovered above him.

Harry groped around for his glasses, found them, put them on, then looked up at Snape . . . who smirked rather nastily.

"As the Slytherin seeker, you have a few more 'tricks' to learn, Mr. Potter," he said as Harry gave a slow, rather wicked grin of his own.

* * *

About a week later, Snape received a very unexpected visitor. He was grading papers in his office and had a slight hangover from imbibing a few Firewhiskeys and listening to Vivaldi the night before. He hadn't checked his stores for sober-up potion and found out this morning he was out. He was going to have to brew more.

A light knock sounded on his door, and the Potions master looked up sharply.

"Who is it?" he snarled.

"It's Lily Potter, Severus. I was wondering if I might have a word with you about Harry?" the witch said.

Both of Severus' eyebrows rose. Lily Potter? Well, he'd figured one of them would come hightailing it down to the dungeons once they found out their firstborn son had been sorted into Slytherin. It had to be devastating for them.

Snape smirked at the thought as he pulled out his wand and flicked it at the door.

"Come in, Mrs. Potter," he said.

The door opened and in walked Lily Potter. Snape studied the witch as she sat down in the rickety chair before his desk, looking distinctly uncomfortable. She hadn't spoken to Severus in many, many years . . . and the last time she did, it was to tell him they were no longer friends. She was still a pretty woman, with rich auburn hair and lovely green eyes. But she looked a little worn, no doubt from raising so many children. Snape folded his hands on his desk.

"How may I help you, Mrs. Potter?" he said formally.

"Well, Harry's been sorted into Slytherin," she began timidly.

"Yes, I am aware of that, Mrs. Potter. I hope you've come here to tell me something I don't know," he replied rather coldly.

"I . . . I just don't understand how . . . how my son could be a Slytherin," she said softly, shaking her head slightly as if this were the worst thing in the world.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"Do you believe house affiliations are genetically derived, Mrs. Potter? If you do, I certainly would like you to point me to the research," he said. "In any case, I don't have any great understanding of it either."

Lily scowled at him now.

"Severus, tell me the truth . . . did you tamper with the Sorting?" she demanded, her green eyes hard.

"Still as accusatory as ever, aren't you, Mrs. Potter?" Snape hissed at her. "It figures you would think yourself so important that after all these years I would hold a grudge and 'tamper' with your son. I'm sorry to say I could have cared less where young Mr. Potter was sorted. I was as surprised as anyone when the Sorting Hat placed him in Slytherin."

His dark eyes narrowed.

"But Slytherin he is, and he will be taught the Slytherin philosophy," he added.

"I don't want that for him!" Lily said angrily.

"Still trying to control people's lives, are we, Mrs. Potter? Well, I hate to inform you of this, but the world does not revolve around what you 'want.' The moment that boy's umbilical cord was cut, he became an individual. I find it rather arrogant that you would try and interfere with your son's path. Not even the gods attempt to control a man's life, Mrs. Potter. You must think very highly of yourself to walk where even the gods fear to tread."

"You haven't changed a bit," Lily hissed at him. "You're still cold, still . . . evil-minded."

Snape gave her an unpleasant little smirk.

"I'm evil-minded because I said the boy needs to follow his own path, which is the path of Salazar Slytherin? My, Mrs. Potter, your gall is astounding. But you are wrong. I have changed. For one, I am no longer pining after you, after the 'friend' of many years who turned her back on me for one outburst of anger, the friend who fell into the arms of the man who tormented me for years without hesitation. I know now that you were never my friend. You just wanted to be seen as someone 'kinder' than the others. Someone special, extremely compassionate. A Gryffindor who could control a Slytherin. I made you look good, Mrs. Potter, and I hung on to your every word, followed you about as if you had a leash attached to me, bit back my words and did everything you asked of me . . . because . . . because . . ."

Snape's face twisted.

"Because I made myself see something, someone that wasn't there," he said. "I actually believe the best thing you could have ever done for me, was to turn your back so I could see the truth about you."

"That's not true," Lily said to him, "I stopped associating with you because of what you were aspiring to be, and the people you hung around. Awful people."

"And James Potter wasn't awful? His 'Marauders' weren't terrible? You always only saw what you wanted to see. The truth is James was worse than I was. He was a bully and a coward . . . you knew that. I was neither of those things, although I often withheld my hand at your request because they were your 'housemates.' What a fool I was," Snape retorted.

Lily stared at Snape. He was so bitter. Maybe . . . maybe he had a right to be. She had never even considered his side of it. She didn't care to consider it back then. In fact, she wouldn't have given him another thought for the rest of her life if not for the fact Harry was in Slytherin, and he was the Head of House.

"I'm not here to talk about the past, Severus," she said to him, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"But you are, Mrs. Potter. It is our past that brought you here. I am sure if Mr. Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, you wouldn't have descended on Minerva in this manner," the wizard said. "You wouldn't have felt the need to come to Hogwarts and have this kind of conversation. I don't know what you want from me. Harry Potter is a Slytherin. I didn't make him one, but I will do my best to make sure he measures up. That is my duty."

"I . . . I just don't want you to mistreat him because of your past with me and James," Lily said to the dark wizard.

"I have no intentions on making the boy's life miserable, Mrs. Potter, I assure you," Snape replied, "although I can't say the same for you. No doubt you will give him grief over the upcoming years for being who he is, try to 'correct' him, change his nature. You won't be able to do it. He is who he is, Mrs. Potter, just as nature intended him to be."

Lily couldn't help but feel disconcerted at Severus addressing her as "Mrs. Potter." It was as if he were verbally distancing himself from her, making it clear he felt no personal feelings toward her. She sighed. Why did she even come here?

To keep James from coming. He was furious that Severus was going to be an influence over Harry and wanted to lay down the law to him. That may have gotten out of hand, and no doubt Severus would have had James arrested if he even pointed a wand at him. They couldn't tell a Hogwarts Head of House what to do. The only recourse they had to break Severus' influence was to withdraw Harry from Hogwarts. But they didn't want to do that. Hogwarts was a premiere institution for training up young wizards.

"I don't plan to interfere with Harry's life," she said, "I was just concerned . . . "

Snape snorted.

"Just as you didn't plan to end our friendship. I distinctly remember you telling me we would be friends for life. You lied, of course."

Lily stood up. This had been a waste of time. It was best to go now.

"I can't do anything about the past, Severus, I can only say I'm sorry," she said to him softly.

Snape made a "pffft" sound.

"Meaningless," he replied, his dark eyes cold as Lily walked toward the office door.

Suddenly, the wizard was struck with the urge to hurt and shame her emotionally. He knew exactly what to say to accomplish that.

"The only solace I have concerning your tossing me away for James Potter," he said softly as Lily turned to face him, wondering what that solace could be.

"Was I got there first," he finished.

Lily turned red as a salamander. He was cruel to bring that one moment of weakness up.

"You're a bastard," she spat at Snape, "I only hope that your influence doesn't ruin my son!"

She stormed out the office door, slamming it behind her as Snape leaned back in his chair, his mouth turned downward.

"Ruination is in the eye of the beholder, Mrs. Potter," he said softly, "in the eye of the beholder."

Snape did have a theory why Harry was sorted into Slytherin house, and it could have been a matter of genetics. Neither his mother nor father were perfect examples of Gryffindors. Yes, they may have had the loyalty and bravery necessary, but they also had darker sides, both of them. He was living proof of the pain their manipulations and targeting could cause.

It seemed that those darker qualities pooled together in their son, those parts of their personalities that were overlooked when they were popular icons of the school. But people can't hide who they are from everyone, particularly, the fates.

It seemed karma had come into play, and what went around . . . came around.

Snape smirked as he thought about the old witch's tale that a child could come out of a woman's womb looking like the person that was abhorred the most.

Snape chuckled darkly.

Harry Potter certainly didn't look like him, but still . . . he was close enough.

* * *

A/N: Whew. Don't ask me where that came from. I guess my anger at Lily shows in this one. I am going to intersperse the past among the present. I hope it doesn't get too confusing, but I have to find a way to show how the past changed. Note Harry still got his Nimbus 2000 and became the youngest seeker at Hogwarts. I guess some things are destined to happen g. I've also come up with a VERY cool adventure scenario for this story. Came to me last night. I think ya'll will like it. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	5. What Dreams May Come

**Chapter 5 Whatever Dreams May Come**

"Hermione, you don't look good. You've been bent over the books all night, haven't you?" Neville asked the witch as he spread jam on a piece of thick buttered toast. "When are you going to realize that constantly reading about something won't fill your head up any more once you've got the gist of it? You have to give your brain some down time. I think I'm going to have to commandeer your backpack tonight."

Hermione scowled at Neville.

"You'll do no such thing," she snapped at Neville, who looked at her coolly, chewing his food. Hermione's temper tantrums didn't affect him in the least, nor did her occasional punches. She could be quite volatile when she wanted her way. "Besides, I didn't spend the night with my nose in a book. I went to bed just as I was supposed to."

Neville frowned at her.

"So why do you look so bad?" he asked her directly.

Neville was usually tactful, but not with Hermione. He learned a long time ago it was best to shoot from the hip with her, or eventually she'd come back with, "Why didn't you just tell me that to start with?"

She didn't like sugar-coating.

"I . . . I had disturbing dreams," she mumbled, picking up a piece of bacon, her brown eyes shifting as she made a point of not looking at the wizard. Of course, Neville noticed this immediately.

"What kind of dreams? Nightmares? What about?" he asked her curiously.

Hermione never complained about having trouble sleeping. Her mind would be so exhausted from its furious daily workouts that she'd practically pass out every night.

"No . . . not nightmares exactly," she said, her voice cracking a little as she thought about the erotic nature of her dreams.

Neville looked at her for a moment as Hermione studiously loaded her plate up with scrambled eggs, her face reddening under his intense scrutiny. Slowly, Neville gave a naughty smile.

"You had a wet dream!" he exclaimed, delighted.

The entire Gryffindor table went quiet for a moment, and Hermione covered her face with her hand as the laughter started.

"Honestly, Neville!" Hermione hissed, grabbing a couple of donuts in a napkin, slinging on her backpack and exiting the Great Hall as her housemates cracked up. Granger having a wet dream? Oh that was hilarious.

"It might have started out wet, but I bet it turned right into a sheet of ice and she slid right out of the bed, she's so frigid," Ron said, elbowing Seamus Finnegan as Neville hurried after her.

The truth was Ron had a crush on Hermione, although he went out with Lavender Brown. But the wizard but felt she was so unapproachable and stuck up that he didn't stand a chance with her. So naturally, he was in "sour grapes" mode and put her down as unattractive and untouchable every chance he got. No, the maturity fairy hadn't come near Ronald Weasley yet.

It was just as well. Hermione really was out of his league intellectually and they had nothing in common other than both being Gryffindors. Besides, she thought he was an idiot and that he and that airhead Sybil Trelawney wanna-be Lavender Brown deserved each other. She could try to predict when Ron would get a clue.

Still, Ron had been stunned when she accompanied Victor Krum to the Tri-Wizard Ball a few years back. So had the rest of Hogwarts.

Victor had been nice, he was handsome and famous, but also kind of thick. Plus, witches flocked after him at every turn. Hermione wasn't interested in him as a boyfriend. There was no way she could expect him to stay true to her, and besides . . . they were both too young to try and maintain a monogamous long distance relationship. They parted friends and corresponded from time to time.

Snape was aware of Victor Krum's attraction to Hermione and hoped the witch wouldn't be caught up in his fame and distracted from her studies. Once again, his hopes were realized. Hermione was far too grounded and driven to turn all her attention on a wizard. She had a future to build.

But the dark wizard did feel a certain satisfaction at seeing the witch envied by her peers that night, and watched covetously as she enjoyed herself with Krum. Dressed in a lovely periwinkle blue gown, her hair pinned up, Hermione looked lovely . . . a young kind of lovely and positively glowed on the seeker's arm. Every young woman should have a moment like that, and Snape's normally hard heart softened just a bit at witnessing her bloom and come into her own, noticed for the first time as the gem she was.

Even Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy did double-takes when they saw her. Harry had taken Daphne Greengrass to the ball, and Draco had Pansy draped around his neck like a necklace, although he probably would have described her as more of a heavy, rusted chain.

The two Slytherins didn't say anything to each other, but it was obvious that the formerly buck-toothed, yet still irritating Gryffindor witch was quite attractive. How the hell didn't they notice? If they had, they would have put her on their "To Shag" list like they had several other rival house witches, which they were studiously working through.

But they'd both blown it. Harry and Draco had given Hermione such a hard time over the years that she'd never give either of them the time of day, other than to cast a few well aimed hexes in their general directions when she couldn't take any more verbal harassment. The very sight of either wizard was enough to make her snarl.

Harry had struck her with a Densaugeo curse, aiming it at Ron during an altercation in the corridor having something to do with Ron's younger sister, Ginny Weasley. Ron jumped out of the way and the spell hit Hermione, who had been passing by, deep in thought about some Arithmancy problem and oblivious to everything else. When the hex hit her, her already long front teeth grew even longer.

Professor Snape appeared among the laughing students and Hermione looked up at him with tears in her eyes as Ron explained what happened, Harry claiming it to be an accident although his eyes were wet with tears of mirth.

Snape looked at the stricken witch, pulled out his wand and did a reduction spell, making her teeth just a bit smaller than they were initially. She was no longer buck-toothed.

"I see no difference, Miss Granger," he said coldly, then assigned Ron a detention and billowed off, Hermione feeling her teeth, then giving everyone around her a perfectly beautiful smile.

Her parents were less than happy about the magical solution to something they'd been working on with night braces for years, but there was nothing to be done for it.

Hermione was overjoyed and her crush on professor Snape grew just a little stronger. He had to know he'd made her teeth smaller, but he never mentioned it again.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Neville said to the witch walking quickly ahead of him. "I was just so surprised."

"You didn't have to shout it out to the world," she snapped at him, slowing.

"I'm really sorry. But it'll die down, believe me. If Ron being caught wanking off in the Common Room closet to an issue of Playwitch didn't last, this sure won't," he said to the witch encouragingly.

Hermione had to smile a little. Ron had been caught wanking off by a shocked and screaming little first year who had opened the closet for one reason or another. The little girl was traumatized, and Ron got a stern talking to from Minerva as well as a terrible howler from his mum telling him in no uncertain terms to keep his "wand" in his "pocket." It had been horrible, but hilarious since it happened in the Great Hall. He also got detention for having the Playwitch as well. He had to suffer through his fellow wizards making wanking motions at him and witches drawing away from him as if he had semen dripping from his fingers for a week before it died down.

"So, who did you dream about?" Neville asked her curiously, wondering who the witch liked enough to have a sexy dream concerning him.

"That's none of your business," Hermione said, reddening again.

"I know, I'm just curious. Hermione. You don't have to give me any details, I'd just like to know who the bloke is that finally turned your head . . . or something," he grinned down at her.

"Well, I'm not telling you, Neville. It's just too personal," she said pointedly.

Neville shrugged.

"All right then, but I hope you don't keep waking up like this in the mornings, otherwise you're going to have to go see Poppy for Dreamless Draught. We have exams, Hermione, and you have to be at your best. This is what we've worked so hard for, you know," Neville said to her with concern.

"I know. I'll be fine, Neville. More than likely it's just a one-time occurrence. I don't normally have dreams like that. It could have been something I ate," she said.

Or maybe even a subconscious reaction to her hymen mysteriously tearing. Hermione researched it and found out it wasn't uncommon that an active witch could tear the thin membrane doing strenuous activities. But she hadn't been doing anything but walking when the pain hit her. Still, it bothered her a little. Poppy said there were signs of penetration, so she had to have seen more than a torn hymen. Maybe Hermione masturbated too hard or something and left friction marks. She didn't know.

Still it was possible young Snape popped up in her dreams because of her non-virginal condition. It was as good a theory as any, but it didn't explain the dream she had the following night.

She was inside the Entrance Hall, standing it seemed with all the other students of Hogwarts, glassy-eyed and miserable with her arms wrapped around Ronald Weasley, who looked lost and frightened as the double doors opened and Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory were carried in on stretchers, looking as if they were both in a deep sleep.

But they were dead.

Hermione let out a scream of anguish Ron clutched her to him, tears rolling down his face as the body of their very best friend was carried to the morgue. His aunt and uncle would be contacted, not that they probably even cared that Harry Potter was dead. Later in the dream she was told by the Headmaster privately that Voldemort had returned and killed him. It was odd since she only spoke to Dumbledore in passing as did most of the students. Why would he take her aside privately? And why did she feel so much pain and fear at this pronouncement?

Hermione sat up in her bed, disoriented and confused.

"Voldemort? Who is Voldemort?" she asked herself before lying back down. She had never heard that name mentioned anywhere.

And she wouldn't have. Tom Riddle hadn't yet taken on that name when Snape killed him. He would have donned it after the potion worked. But, thanks to Hermione, that never happened. It also made her think her subconscious was creating some kind of sick fantasy world. Cry for Harry Potter?

Hmph. More than likely she'd dance on the bastard's grave if he were somehow taken out. And Ron comforting her? She'd prefer to fall into the tangles of a Devil's Snare plant rather than Weasley's arms. Hermione mentally went over everything she ate before bed and decided to lay off the treacle tarts for a while.

* * *

After five nights of strange, disorienting dreams about Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and all manner of strange adventures and a very snarky professor Snape, Hermione had to go to Poppy and tell her what was happening.

Poppy examined her and could find nothing physically wrong with the witch.

"It could be stress, Hermione. You know you study much too hard, and this is your last year. You need to relax . . . your mind is racing," Madam Pomfrey told her. "For now, the most expedient path would be to take Dreamless Draught each night so you'll sleep through undisturbed."

Poppy wrote down a prescription for the draught and handed it to her.

"Take this to Professor Snape and he will provide the potion for you. It's not something I keep in my stores," she said to the witch. "He will instruct you on its use. I suggest you see him as soon as possible."

Hermione thanked Poppy and headed for the dungeons. Gods, she was so tired and out of whack. Everything felt strange, wrong and out of synch. Those dreams were very disturbing and she found herself thinking about them during the day. If they were normal dreams, just flashes of events, that would be one thing. But these dreams seemed to be cohesive, every night she seemed to be younger in them. Last night she dreamed of being with Harry in the woods running from a werewolf of all things. And being in some kind of shack with strange grown wizards and her, Harry and Ron casting an "Expelliarmus" spell on professor Snape. It was terrifying and stuttered. One of the wizards was gaunt and bearded, with a wild look in his eyes and Harry wanted to kill him. And Ron's rat Scabbers turned into a fat little wizard.

In this timeline, Ron used have a rat, but Scabbers was long dead, passing on in the wizard's second year, just before she got her own familiar, Crookshanks, who was staying with her parents in London. Why was her subconscious turning him into a man? Could it be some kind of horrible secret attraction to Ron Weasley? Gah!

Then the night before that she dreamed of the Tri-Wizard tournament and Harry was the fourth champion. In this timeline he had also been the fourth champion, with no one but Snape knowing how he became one. The Head of House confunded the Goblet of Fire and entered Harry's name under another imaginary school of magic. There was an awful fuss about it, but Harry had to be a champion. It was the rules after all.

He won too, although his conduct throughout the games was less than stellar. He purposely sabotaged Krum, Fleur and Cedric on as many occasions as he could, hexing Cedric in the back as they raced for the cup, leaping over his prone body and claiming the prize for Hogwarts and Slytherin house. Krum got stumped by the Sphinx and Fleur was wrapped up by a slightly tamed Devil's Snare plant hidden in the greenery of the maze.

Snape was elated. Harry's parents on the other hand were ashamed of his methods of winning. But anything went during the competition and Harry's victory was accepted.

Hermione turned and walked down the narrow stairs that led to the dungeons. Damn, she hoped professor Snape could help her. She was starting to feel as if she were going crazy.

* * *

A/N: A little more AU history. Slow, rough day today. Sigh. Thanks for reading.


	6. Divide and Conquer

**Chapter 6 Divide and Conquer**

Harry looked up at the clock and let out a low curse that made Draco look up at him. They were both studying for the upcoming exams in Harry's room. Harry was sitting on his bed and Draco was sitting in a chair next to it.

"Damn, it's time to go," Harry said, frowning and slamming his book closed.

Draco closed his own book. Harry still hadn't told him what happened to make Snape assign him a week's detention working with that big, dumb bastard Hagrid, who was the Hogwarts groundskeeper. It was hard work, Harry having to follow the smelly half-giant around the grounds, using his magic to trim hedges, plant bushes, clean Thestral stables and so forth. Harry didn't even understand why Hagrid was at Hogwarts. He didn't do any magic at all. Maybe it was because he was a freak and Dumbledore felt sorry for him, the old bleeding heart.

"Harry, can't you tell me what happened? I mean, Snape favors you . . . we all know that. For him to give you an entire week's detention with that big oaf, you must have done something that really displeased him. Come on, tell me," Draco said to him, his gray eyes filled to the brim with curiosity.

"Draco, if I tell you, it'll be a million times worse if it gets out. I could go to Azkaban," Harry replied, his green eyes narrowing as he adjusted his glasses.

Now Draco just had to know. This was the most Harry had said about his situation.

"I wouldn't tell anyone, Harry. We're mates," he hissed at his friend. "Come on, tell me!"

Harry shook his head slowly.

"I don't think you'd be able to resist saying something to one person," Harry said doubtfully, thinking Draco would love to put Hermione on the spot.

Draco frowned for a moment, then brightened.

"I'll take an Oath of Silence never to reveal what you tell me to anyone," he said earnestly. "I've got to know Harry or I'm going to explode."

Harry sighed. Draco had promised to take an oath for the entire week, but still he didn't tell him. But the situation was weighing heavily on his mind, and he'd like to get it off his chest.

"All right, Draco . . . take the oath and I'll tell you."

Draco quickly took an Oath of Silence, magic swirling about them. The moment it ceased, Draco looked at Harry, his eyes full of expectancy.

"Spill it," he said.

Harry told Draco how he had been in his room and Hermione suddenly appeared, dressed only in her bra and knickers, carrying just her wand.

"Granger came to you almost naked?" Draco asked, his eyes wide. Then, "well, what did she look like? Body-wise?"

Harry shook his head.

"She looked good, Draco. She's hiding a lot under those robes. I just wanted to jump on her the moment I saw her. I'm sure she came here to shag me, but . . . got cold feet. I wasn't about to let her go . . . I mean, she came here, didn't she? Once we got started she would have gotten what she wanted," Harry said to him.

"What do you mean, cold feet?" Draco asked him.

"She pretended not to know what she was doing here. But how could she come here if she didn't intend to? I'm telling you, Draco . . . she came to be with me . . . I know it. Yeah, she said she hated me, but those knickers said differently. So, I petrified her and put her in my bed," Harry said.

"Damn, then what happened? Did you do it? Did you shag her?" Draco asked, sitting on the edge of his seat now.

Harry shook his head.

"No, Snape walked in and took her," Harry said with a sigh, "then he told me attempted rape is just as bad as rape and if I mentioned a word of what happened, he'd report me to the authorities."

Draco's brow furrowed.

"I wonder how he knew to come just at that moment? Did he knock?" he asked Harry.

"No, he just walked right in, almost as if . . . as if he expected me to have a witch in my room," Harry replied.

"That's really strange. How did Granger act?" the blonde inquired.

"She played it off and acted as if she didn't know how she got here. You know Snape fell for it. He treats her as if she's a Slytherin, I swear," Harry hissed.

"Yeah, but all the teachers treat her like that," Draco replied, his eyes darkening, "brilliant bloody Granger. I wish you could have buggered her, the little bitch."

"Me too. It would have been a hard one, believe me. But . . . I didn't. Now I have to work with fucking Hagrid, and he smells like a troll. He wears that smelly coat day and night I bet. And his hair, it's full of axle grease and his beard looks like brambles. It's horrible just to be around him. I don't even think he can read," Harry said witheringly as he pulled on his robes.

"I heard he was kicked out of Hogwarts for something . . . his wand taken away. But my father didn't give me all the details. He said Dumbledore should have never let him back here, but you know Dumbledore. A Gryffindor," Draco said with distaste. "He welcomes Mudbloods, so a filthy half-giant's no problem. If not for my father sitting on the Board of Governors, he would have ruined the school by now. Probably brought in Muggles."

Harry didn't say anything about the Mudblood comment, even though his mother was Muggle-born. He was so emotionally distant from his parents that Draco's usage of the term didn't bother him. Obviously, his friend thought him a proper wizard, despite his tainted parentage. That's all that really mattered.

The final break that caused a chasm between him and his parents was something professor Snape showed him shortly after he won the Tri-Wizard Championship. His parents dressed him down in front of his siblings, telling him that he didn't deserve to win, that his methods were deplorable, and they were ashamed of him. He argued that "anything went" during the competition, and his father told him that was no reason to act like a bloody git. He also took him to task about his constant harassment of Gryffindors, his friendship with Draco Malfoy and not protecting his younger brothers and sisters, who were all in Gryffindor house.

Young Remus and Peter had been locked in the Entrance Hall closet by Draco, Goyle and Crabbe after they took their wands and put a Silencing spell on it so no one would hear them calling to be let out. Harry had simply laughed about it when he found out. They weren't hurt after all.

Then his mum got on him about how he'd thrown over Ron.

"Ron was your best friend, Harry. Your very best friend, and you threw him over for Draco Malfoy just because he's better off," she said to him, looking very disappointed.

Harry tried to explain they were bound to drift apart because they were in different houses and the rivalries between them. He couldn't pal around with a Gryffindor. It would make things hard for him in his own house.

"It should make no difference, Harry. You should be ashamed of yourself. He's your friend. A friend is a friend always," she lectured.

Lily and James had been furious, because Draco was Harry's best friend. He and Ron had drifted apart almost immediately once he met Draco after the Sorting, who told him: "You'll find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He offered Harry his hand, and after a moment, Harry took it, shaking it firmly. They'd been friends ever since, Draco using his influence to slide Ron out of the way by suggesting activities Ron couldn't be part of, most of which took place in Slytherin House. Once Harry became seeker, it was practically over. Oh, he and his parents still went to the Burrow, but Harry always seemed as if he didn't want to be there, unless Ginny was around, and then he was always trying to sneak off with her for a little slap and tickle. He still played around with Ginny, although he hadn't shagged her yet.

He really didn't know why. She'd let him, he was sure . . . but . . . for some reason snogging the fiery-headed little witch was as far as he'd go. He didn't understand it, but then again, he didn't think about it much.

After his parents' chastisement, Harry returned to the school sullen, disturbed, and not acting himself, really affected by what they said to him, feeling for the first time, he'd really let them down.

Snape picked up on it as if he had radar and took Harry aside and asked him what was wrong.

Harry told him about what his father and mother had said, especially about acting out house rivalries and betraying friends, Snape listened quietly, then let out a little snort.

"They said all that did they?" Snape purred at him.

Harry nodded sullenly.

Snape stood up.

"Come with me into my private quarters. There's something I believe I should show you," the dark wizard said, rising from behind his desk, walking to a corner of his office and pulling on a torch. The wall rose.

He looked back at Harry.

"Come along, Mr. Potter, there's knowledge afoot," he said softly, walking through.

Harry followed and found himself in a large room filled with books. There was also a large writing desk with quills and parchments in one corner, a liquor cabinet, a green sofa, two armchairs, a small table and a fireplace. Over the mantle hung the Slytherin standard, a silver snake against a green field.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter," Snape said, gesturing to one of the chairs.

Harry sat down, wondering what this was all about and watching as Snape walked over to a shelf of books and pulled it aside. It was a false front. He drew out a large bowl, closed the shelf back and glided over to the armchair next to Harry's and sat down, pulling out his wand.

Harry watched as Snape removed memories, placing them into the Pensieve. He handed it to Harry.

"I'm not going to say anything about the content of that Pensieve to influence you, Mr. Potter. Suffice it to say, parents' memories can be 'selective.' Before you deluge yourself with self-recriminations and rethink who you are, I'd like you to view this," he said softly, the firelight catching his dark eyes.

Harry frowned at Snape slightly, then stared down at the bowl in his lap.

Snape waited more than an hour for Harry to view his memories. They were memories about him and Lily as children and growing up in Hogwarts up to the point she abandoned him, and about his father and his "uncles" Remus and Peter and his godfather Sirius.

When Harry exited the Pensieve, he looked up at professor Snape with a mixture of horror and loathing. The Potions master knew that look wasn't for him.

"The hypocrites," Harry hissed, "both of them. All this time they've talked about noble values and how to treat people, treasure friends . . . and they were both horrible to you, professor. I thought I knew my parents. My dad was a bully and a coward. And my mum, what kind of friend was she to throw you over when it was clear you were angry about being attacked? Friends call each other names all the time when they're mad."

Snape didn't say anything. He just watched as Harry seethed, working himself into a deep, searing anger at his parents. After all this time they spent giving him a hard time, he finds out they had been no better . . . actually worse than he was. And professor Snape never once said anything bad about either of them his whole time at Hogwarts, although his mother and father constantly warned him not to get too close to the wizard. It was probably guilt, or worse, they were afraid the professor would tell him what gits they really were.

Harry looked at Snape. But he hadn't told him . . . he showed him and only because he was so down about how he'd failed them. Harry frowned. He hadn't failed them. In fact, he acted a damn sight better than they had at his age. He gave Gryffindors a hard time, but he had never targeted anyone specific repeatedly. Maybe once in a while he and Draco would team up, but there was always more than one victim.

When he came home for the summer and his parents started in on him as they usually did, although his marks were good and Slytherin won the House Cup, they found a very different son. One full of resentment and accusations . . . all of which were the truth.

"Dad, you and the 'Marauders' constantly ganged up on professor Snape when you were in school. He'd be doing nothing to bother you and you'd just attack him for no reason, embarrassing him in front of everyone! And you, mum . . . you were supposed to be his friend. I thought you didn't turn your back on friends? At least that's what you told me. Both of you are FULL of it! It's 'do like I say, don't do as I do,' isn't it? Well, it doesn't work that way. I'm honest about the way I am. That's more than I can say about the two of you! From now on, save your lectures on how I'm supposed to behave, because you two have no idea how it's really done. I can't believe you!"

And he stormed into his room and refused to come out for much of the time. He spent most of the summer there, corresponding with Draco and reading. He ate his meals with the family, but was sullen and wouldn't interact with any of them, not even his sister Petunia, who wasn't yet at Hogwarts and who loved him dearly.

She'd try and climb into his lap, but Harry would set her down gently and say, "Not now, Petunia."

She couldn't understand why "Hawwy" wouldn't play with her.

It was because Harry had issues. Big ones. And neither his mother nor father knew how to fix them. He was right after all. Of course, James was furious at Snape.

"That greasy dungeon bat told him all of that," the seeker seethed, pacing back and forth in their living room as Lily watched him. "He had no right to reveal that history. Harry took it all out of context, now he thinks we're hypocrites and liars. How is he going to respect anything we have to say?"

Lily didn't say anything. As awful as it was, it was all true. All of it. And they ignored what they had been like as children growing up at Hogwarts. How cruel and unthinking they could be. They acted like it hadn't mattered. They were all young then, still maturing . . . children were cruel at that age. Lily had no idea that when she turned her back on Severus Snape, that it would come back to haunt her.

They just wanted Harry to grow into a proper wizard. Be kind, honorable, courageous and fair-minded. Something they weren't a lot of the time when they were young. Given, Lily and James Potter were no worse coming up than a lot of children, but they made the mistake of acting like they had no faults, as if they had never acted wrongly toward anyone. What was worse, the blow-up happened in front of Harry's younger siblings, and the look of astonishment and disbelief in their eyes were almost as hurtful as Harry's words.

Well, Harry was pretty much a lost cause at this time. Hopefully he'd calm down enough so they could talk candidly with him in the future. In the meantime, they had a lot of damage control to do with their other children, those who weren't under the influence of Severus Snape.

As Lily sat there listening to James rave about Severus, she couldn't help feeling that they had truly brought this on themselves. They never made any attempt to apologize for their treatment of him when they became adults. They just . . . dismissed him like a non-entity. He didn't matter. He was out of their lives.

But life has a way of coming full circle, and Severus Snape was no fool. He didn't resort to ill-treatment of Harry Potter . . . oh no. He knew that would only cause resentment and defiance for the short term of the boy's tenure at Hogwarts. He was going for the long-term and the permanent.

Harry Potter was a product of careful, calculating treatment, thoroughly Slytherinized, the path of his life firmly sealed by the duplicity of his own parents' holier-than-thou attitude.

Snape always knew that attitude would be the rock cake that broke the Thestral's back. He waited patiently for them to pour it on, feeling that Harry winning the Tri-Wizard Championship in the prescribed Slytherin manner would be the perfect catalyst to get James and Lily on their soapboxes.

He had been right, but that was no surprise to the wizard at all. He always knew he was smarter than the two of them combined.

Gryffindors were always so fucking predictable.

* * *

A/N: Whoo hoo! So now we see it. Just how sinister and brilliant and successful Snape's plans for Harry were.


	7. Looking for Answers

**Chapter 7 Looking for Answers**

Hermione knocked on the Potions office door, but there was no answer. After a minute or two, she walked down to the Potions classroom, opened the door and peeked in. No, professor Snape wasn't in here either. Then she listened closely.

She heard . . . music. It was faint, but definitely music as if behind a closed door. Hermione walked into the classroom, listened, then headed down a short corridor that ended at a heavy wooden door. The music was coming from behind it. She knocked but there was no answer. Still, someone had to be in there, otherwise why would music be playing?

She turned the knob and opened the door slowly, cautiously sticking her head inside. Sure enough, there was professor Snape, busily chopping some herbs, Vivaldi's Four Seasons blasting from a Wizarding Wireless.

Hermione smiled, because the professor was bobbing his head in a conductor-like manner as he worked, his lank hair lifting and swinging, the wizard pausing when the music hit a strain he particularly liked, one pale finger acting as a baton before he returned to his work. Obviously, he enjoyed Vivaldi very much.

"Professor!" Hermione shouted over the music, but Snape didn't hear her. She shouted several more times before there was a slight diminuendo in the piece and Snape's head twisted about quickly, the wizard scowling until he saw Hermione, waving a piece of parchment at him. His face went neutral immediately as he walking over to the Wizarding Wireless and turned it off.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I'm sorry I didn't hear you knock," the wizard said, gliding toward her and taking the parchment, studying it for a moment then looking at her rather sharply.

Hermione was busily craning her neck, looking about his lab. She'd never seen it before.

"Having trouble sleeping, Miss Granger?" the wizard asked her, concern in his black eyes as he looked upon the brilliant young woman who changed the path of his life at great risk to herself.

Hermione's brown eyes shifted and met his.

"Ah, yes, Professor. I'm not sleeping well at all," she said.

"I see. Well, let me put away these ingredients and then I will retrieve your prescription," the wizard said.

Hermione watched as he put away the herbs, cleaned his utensils and cleaned up his work area. Professor Snape was always so meticulous when it came to anything concerning potions, and Hermione emulated him at every turn. Finally, he turned down the torches and faced her.

"After you, Miss Granger," he said softly, and Hermione withdrew, Snape closing the door and following her to his potions store. He pulled out his wand and unwarded the door, a torch flaring up as he entered. Hermione stood outside, watching as he climbed a ladder, picked over a few bottles then retrieved a large green bottle, studying it before climbing back down. He exited the store, warded the door back and handed her the bottle.

He looked her over, mentally calculating the amount she needed to take to insure a full night of dreamless sleep. But before he told her, he decided to find out the nature of her problem.

"Miss Granger, what exactly are your complaints? I need to know so I can give you the proper dosage. If it is just restlessness, for example . . . the dosage will be lower. If the complaint is more severe, such as recurring nightmares, you will need to take more," Snape said to her.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, and Snape's brow furrowed slightly. She was reluctant to say what the problem was, although he suspected she was dreaming about the alternate timeline.

"Miss Granger, I am a Head of House and quite used to listening to students' problems and difficulties. I do not pass judgment and whatever passes between us remains strictly confidential, even if you aren't in Slytherin. Now please, don't hesitate. Tell me what the problem is," he said to her gently.

Hermione sighed. She had told Neville about it while they studied in the Gryffindor Common Room and he said she was probably working too hard. To dream Harry Potter was her "friend" was absolutely ludicrous, the way she described the Tri-Wizard challenge was all wrong, and Alastor Moody was a well-known Auror who had both his eyes and legs.

"Your mind needs a rest. Give me your backpack," he had demanded, making a grab for it, but Hermione ran and made it up the stairs before Neville could catch her. He slid down the folding stairs unceremoniously on his belly, his housemates cracking up as he got off the floor sheepishly, brushing off his robes.

"Damn, she's quick," he said to himself with a grin, looking up at the empty landing, then returning to his studies.

"Well, I'm not having nightmares exactly," Hermione said as Snape led her into the classroom, "just very strange dreams."

"What kind of dreams?" Snape asked her.

Hermione started to pace.

Snape walked up to his desk, turned around and leaned on it, his arms folded, watching the agitated witch.

"Well, they're about my life . . . kind of, but different. Everything's different. I mean, I'm still at Hogwarts, but . . ."

Hermione stopped and looked at him, her eyes troubled.

"Go on, Miss Granger, I'm listening," Snape urged.

"It's like the whole world is turned upside down. Harry Potter is in Gryffindor, he and Ron are my friends. Somebody named Voldemort killed him and Cedric Diggory, and it's like an entirely different world. You're in it too, professor, and you're so mean that I can't even describe it. You don't even look like yourself really. You're much skinnier and look . . . unhealthy. You absolutely hate Harry and you're mean to me as well, mean to everybody really. Nothing like you are in reality."

Snape's lip quirked.

Actually, he was thought of as the snarkiest teacher in the school and he knew it.

"People have different perceptions of me, Miss Granger. Obviously, you think I'm the good sort," he said with a hint of mirth.

"Yes, I do. But in my dreams, you're pretty bad," she replied.

"I see. Well, they are just dreams, Miss Granger . . . more than likely brought about by the pressures you're feeling in your last year," he said reassuringly.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Professor, I didn't start having these dreams until that incident with Harry Potter," she said suspiciously.

"Uh oh," Snape thought.

That mind was starting to go to work. Damn it.

"And I still don't know what happened that evening," she said to him. "but . . . but I think you do. Couldn't you tell me now, rather than wait until after I graduate? Maybe all of these dreams are the result of that strange happening. If I know why I was in his room, then maybe the dreams would stop and I wouldn't have to take that draught," Hermione said.

Snape sighed. It wouldn't do for Hermione to know about the alternate timeline while still a student. Once she was beyond the halls of Hogwarts, it would be better for her. She wouldn't be constantly faced with the glaring differences between her life as it was now, compared to what it was then. Everything here would be a constant reminder and distraction.

"Miss Granger, please trust me on this. I will gladly give you the details once you leave Hogwarts. It would be better for you in the long run. To tell you now would be a grave disservice. I would like you to graduate with full marks, and you won't be able to do that if you are distracted. Besides, if you don't get full marks . . . I won't be able to offer you an apprenticeship," the wizard said softly.

Hermione's eyes lit up. An apprenticeship? Did professor Snape, the best Potions master in the Wizarding World just say he wanted to offer her an apprenticeship?

Snape eyed her, holding his breath slightly. He knew the only way out of this was to get her thinking about something else. An apprenticeship offer would do nicely in a pinch.

"Do you mean it, professor?" Hermione squealed, clasping her hands together with delight.

"Only if get the marks I expect," the dark wizard responded.

"Oh . . . oh I will! I will!" Hermione said.

Suddenly, the witch rushed forward and launched herself at a rather surprised professor Snape, landing in his arms and hugging him tightly. Snape looked down at her, blinking for a moment.

"Professor Snape?" a voice said, then, "oh shit!"

Snape looked up sharply and Hermione turned her head toward the voice, still clutching the wizard, in shock this time.

Harry Potter stood in the doorway, staring at the compromising position that his Head of House was in. He was embracing Hermione Granger! He was on his way to meet Hagrid when he saw the classroom door open, which was unusual. He had been about to close it if it wasn't occupied.

"Oh. Oh, now I see what the detention really was about, professor," he said in a low voice, his green eyes narrowed.

Suddenly, Hermione seemed to realize what she was doing and jumped away from Snape as if he had turned red-hot. Snape cocked his head at Harry.

"Do you, Mr. Potter?" the wizard said in a controlled voice.

Harry's mouth turned down as he looked at Hermione, who stared back at him, her face red.

"You didn't want me touching her because that's your job," the young wizard accused.

Now Snape frowned, and he billowed toward Harry. He stopped a foot from him, his face slightly twisted as he addressed the young wizard.

"Mr. Potter, we have had an amicable relationship up to this point, and I would like to continue to keep it that way. Don't make your father's mistake and jump to erroneous conclusions about me. What you witnessed, Mr. Potter, was Miss Granger's overzealous reaction to my telling her I would like to offer her a Potions apprenticeship if her marks are worthy. Like most over-reactive young women, her first reaction was to fling herself upon me and try to squeeze me to death. You happened by when that occurred. I assure you I do not involve myself with students, not even those as appealing as Miss Granger," Snape said to him, his eyes cold.

Harry looked from Snape to Hermione to Snape again. Yes, that's probably what happened. Snape was a great Head of House, but he was ugly as hell. There's no way Hermione could be attracted to him. Besides, he could lose his position, dipping his wand into the student body. And Granger probably wet her knickers at the idea of more hard work ahead after graduation. She was like that. Harry and Draco discussed the possibility that she masturbated to her extra credit assignments.

Harry apologized.

"I'm sorry, professor. I just jumped to conclusions," Harry said, hanging his head.

"Yes you did, and because you did, you just earned two more nights with Hagrid," Snape told him.

"Oh . . . f . . fudge," Harry hissed, altering his comment before it got out fully.

"You may go, Mr. Potter," Snape said, dismissing the wizard.

Harry looked at him, then turned on his heel and exited the classroom, cursing under his breath. Granger had gotten him in trouble again.

Hermione was standing there, wide-eyed. Did . . . did professor Snape say she was "appealing?" "Appealing?" Did that mean he personally found her attractive in a way that wasn't remotely connected to her brain?

Snape turned to her.

"In the future, Miss Granger, I must insist you control your impulsive nature. You placed me in a very compromising position by touching my person," he said to her softly, his black eyes glittering slightly. But . . . strangely he didn't look displeased.

"I'm sorry, professor. I just wasn't thinking," she said apologetically.

"Indeed," he said, arching an eyebrow at her speculatively. She was a well-rounded young woman, but he already knew that. "Well, you are to take two large tablespoons of the sleeping draught before you retire. That should stop your dreams for the night. You may go, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, walking by him slowly, her belly full of butterflies.

Snape watched as she exited, then sighed.

She had come too close, too early. He hoped she didn't think too hard about those dreams and being in Harry's room. He had no doubt she'd make the connection, especially if she thought about that Time Turner.

Unfortunately, this was one hope that professor had that didn't come to fruition. Once Hermione returned to her room and got past his "appealing" comment and his offer of apprenticeship, she started thinking about her dreams again and went over what happened in Harry's room and afterwards.

Professor Snape had taken a Time Turner from her, and said something about she didn't think about her return. Return from where?

Suddenly a cold feeling washed over Hermione as she realized she must have used that Time Turner, and Snape knew why. But, that wouldn't explain why she couldn't remember where and when she went. She had used a Time Turner in her third year in order to take extra classes. It wore her out, so she stopped using it, but she always remembered what she had done when using it. In her dream last night, she also had a Time Turner and used it to save a hippogriff and that same bearded man, who was Harry's godfather.

"What's going on here?" Hermione said to herself, looking at the sleeping draught resting on her nightstand.

Hermione thought hard. A Time Turner moved you through time, but not through space. A person using one would be standing in the same place as time changed around them. The only reason she could have been in Harry's room was if she was already there when she used the Turner. Why would she be in the Head Boy's room?

Professor Snape knew the answers, she was sure of it. He said as much when he told her that knowing what happened wouldn't be conducive. Well, having these dreams weren't conducive either . . . but . . . maybe that's because she was consciously fighting them. Maybe, maybe if she just started accepting them and paying close attention, she'd get some answers. If she got enough, maybe she could force professor Snape to tell her everything.

Hermione put the sleeping draught into her nightstand, and lay down in her bed on her back, willing herself to keep an open mind and remember what she dreamed. She needed to retain as much of the dreams as possible.

Maybe then she'd understand what was happening to her.

* * *

"Just come on, Neville," Hermione said, dragging the wizard along by his wrist.

"But Hermione, it's lunchtime. I'm starving," Neville complained. "Where are we going anyway?"

"I just want to check something. Come on," she said, tightening her hold on him.

It was pretty comical to see the short, curly-haired witch dragging Neville, who was at least six feet tall, down corridors. Hermione certainly was determined. But she wanted a witness.

She pulled Neville up a staircase to the third floor and entered the trophy room.

"What are we doing in here?" Neville asked her as Hermione continued walking forward, her brown eyes shifting about warily as she looked at the crystal cases and their contents. She didn't answer him. She turned down a long galley full of suits of armor, swung around a doorpost and walked up and down several corridors until they came to a tapestry.

"In here," Hermione said, pulling it back and revealing a hidden passageway.

"How did you know about this?" Neville asked her, free now but still following

"I dreamed about it," Hermione replied.

Neville looked at her quizzically, but didn't reply.

They walked along the passageway and emerged by the Charms classroom.

"We went through all of that just to end up here, Hermione? I swear, I think you're going nutters," Neville said to her in disbelief.

"Just come on, Neville. There's a reason I'm doing this. I'm retracing my steps from the dream last night. This is the easiest path to follow," she replied. "The passageway was there, just like in my dream. Now I'm trying to find something else. Something I couldn't know was there."

She walked down a corridor that ended in a heavy wooden door. It was locked.

"What's that room?" Neville asked her.

"It's not a room, Neville. According to my dream it's a hidden corridor," she said, pulling out her wand.

"Alohamora," she breathed, unlocking the door, her heart pounding.

She pushed it open and entered.

"This is it!" she said excitedly, running forward and looking down at the floor.

There, embedded in the stone tile, was a trapdoor with a large pull ring.

"There it is, Neville, the trapdoor that Fluffy was guarding," Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

"Fluffy?" Neville repeated, a confused look in his eyes.

"Yes, Fluffy. Hagrid's three-headed dog," she said, smiling down at the door as if she'd stumbled on a cache of gold.

"Hagrid? You mean the groundskeeper? He doesn't have a dog, especially a three-headed dog. The only one who has one of those is the devil last I heard," the wizard said.

"Help me, open it, Neville," Hermione said excitedly, pulling on the ring without budging the trapdoor at all.

"Why?" Neville asked her, moving her aside and gripping the rusted ring with both hands before he even got an answer.

"Because, we have to explore what's down there," Hermione breathed. "If it's what I dreamed, Neville, there's a lot more going on here than dreams. I might be able to figure things out."

"Fine," Neville said, heaving and pulling the heavy door up.

He'd do anything as long as it got Hermione back up to snuff.

Right now, she was acting like a trip to St. Mungo's was in order.

* * *

A/N: And we're off! This was a fun chapter to write. So, Snape thinks Hermione is "appealing" eh? :chuckles: Thanks for reading.


	8. Snape's Best Memory

**Chapter 8 Snape's Best Memory**

Year 1977, Beginning of Snape's Last Year at Hogwarts

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore collected the folded parchments from each of his teaching staff. They had each cast their vote for this year's Head Boy and Head Girl. Of course, Dumbledore had the last word on the selection, but there was no reason to think he wouldn't agree to the choices this year, that of James Potter and Lily Evans. They were the most popular students at the school, as well as an item. It was suitable they should serve.

The tall, thin wizard walked to the front of the staff room and sat down at the table set up in front, carefully going through the parchments. His gray hair was on its way to becoming snow white as was his beard. He wore white robes and a white pointed hat, and looked over his half-moon glasses at the names written on the parchment.

He frowned slightly as the staff quietly chatted among themselves. He looked up at them, shaking his head slightly. He had provided the names of students with the top marks and least violations on their records. It was clear to see that they took more than that into consideration when making their selections. He understood the choice of James Potter and Lily Evans.

He just didn't agree with it. For the first time since becoming Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore was about to go against his staff.

He tapped his wand on the table and everyone looked up at him expectantly as he rose to address them.

"Dear staff members, your vote for Head Boy and Head Girl have been duly noted. However, I find that one of those chosen is not suitable, and there is another that has higher grades and lesser instances of detentions than Mr. Potter," Albus said, "choosing the Head Boy is not supposed to be based on popularity, but accomplishment, as well as fortitude. Mr. Potter is quite a likeable young man but you must admit he has been less than stellar in his behavior during his time at this school."

"What?" Minerva said, her black eyes narrowed. "I admit James Potter is a bit boisterous, but that's just youthful exuberance, Albus. Surely you're not going to penalize him for that?"

Minerva McGonagall was the Transfiguration teacher, but also served as the head of Gryffindor House and was looking forward to the bragging rights of having two Gryffindors as the student heads. This was unconscionable. Albus was a Gryffindor. What happened to house nepotism?

"I am not penalizing him, Minerva. I am simply choosing someone I know will take his responsibilities seriously. A young man with excellent grades, a nearly unblemished record and who is mature beyond his years. Someone who will act with authority and will not be afraid to make unpopular decisions nor favor friends over others in making those decisions. Besides, placing him in the position will serve as a check and balance against having two student heads from the same house. So . . . Mr. Potter will be a Prefect rather than Head Boy . . ."

Here Albus paused dramatically.

"And Severus Snape will be this year's Head Boy. He has been hardworking and studious all his tenure at this school, despite . . . shall we say . . . a very difficult situation that has followed him from the very first. He has the tenacity and strength necessary to serve in the position. I have faith in him."

The teachers fell into stunned silence, even the Head of Slytherin House, who had chosen a Ravenclaw for Head Boy. Then the murmuring started as Minerva addressed Albus.

"Severus Snape? Surely you can't be serious Albus. It's rumored that his allegiances are lesser than stellar. Besides, he has to be the darkest, most sullen student at our school. Head Boys are supposed to be representative of the entire student body. He will be called on to make speeches and do public service. He rarely even speaks. Not to mention his appearance . . ." the witch said with a sniff as the others, with the exception of the Slytherin Head of House, muttered agreement.

"I am well aware of the 'rumors,' Minerva, but will not allow hearsay to sway me. That young man has gone through much during his time at Hogwarts, and taken it stoically. He has shown restraint and nearly the patience of saints concerning his treatment here by 'certain' students," he replied, his blue eyes glittering at Minerva unpleasantly.

"Students who have been given preferential treatment, who had blind eyes turned away from their hijinks, and who rarely were punished for their actions. I believe Mr. Snape deserves at least one good year at this institution. I have no doubt he will perform his duties adequately, from speeches to service when called upon. And how he dresses or looks has no bearing on his abilities. This is not a fashion show or a beauty contest. My decision in this matter is final. Mr. Severus Snape of Slytherin House will be this year's Head Boy."

Albus sat down at the table and Minerva made one final effort.

"But, Albus . . . with that kind of power, he'll make life miserable for . . ." she began as he looked up at her sharply.

"He will only be able to correct those in need of correction, professor McGonagall," Albus said, reverting to her formal title to show he was speaking from a position of authority. "As long as the students conduct themselves with respect for the rules of Hogwarts, they'll have nothing to worry about. The topic is closed. Next on the agenda . . ."

Minerva fell silent as Albus read off the open slots in the schedule for the upcoming term. Severus Snape as Head Boy? This was going to be a disaster.

Yes, Albus was aware that Severus Snape was leaning toward the dark side, but he had not yet fallen completely into Tom Riddle's grasp. He was also well aware that if not for his mistreatment by the hands of his peers, he might not have set out on this path. The Headmaster hoped that by giving him a chance to do good service as well as get back a little of his own his last year, he might turn the young man.

Besides, he had always felt a little guilty about that werewolf incident.

* * *

Severus Snape was sitting in the tiny living room in his home in Spinners End, his father Tobias having a few whiskeys and his mother in the kitchen washing dishes. The young wizard was trying to read as his father rattled on about his deplorable work situation and how he was unemployed and forced to scrounge about to earn a living.

"You two are bloody magicians, why don't you conjure up some money?" he demanded of his son, who studiously looked down at his book, trying to ignore him.

Severus had been in his room, but his father demanded he come downstairs and sit "with the family" and stop hiding in his hole like a rat. Severus sullenly obeyed him and sat there, his belly tight as his father once again worked himself into a frenzy. Once he was drunk enough, the physical abuse would start.

His mother Eileen washed the dishes slowly, hoping that Tobias would fall asleep before she had to come into the living room. She looked around the kitchen.

"I could clean out the cabinets, and scrub the floor by hand," she murmured to herself, trying to come up with more duties. "Then I can start supper."

She shivered a little. All they were going to have was cabbage soup, because that was all that was in the house. She was a witch, but magic could create neither money nor food, so she was helpless there. Besides, Tobias had snapped her wand years ago, saying she'd never turn it on him. The cabbage soup was bound to set him off, screaming at her, asking why she couldn't cook a decent meal for once.

Suddenly, Severus was hit in the head by a tattered old magazine flung at him by his father.

"I know you hear me, boy!" Tobias hissed at him as Severus looked up at him, his dark eyes narrowed. Gods, he wished he had enough nerve to cast the Killing curse on him.

"Why don't you make some money appear?" Tobias demanded again, although he'd heard the answer thousands of times before.

"Because, dad," Severus said tiredly, "we can't make money or food appear out of thin air."

"And why the hell not?" Tobias demanded for maybe the millionth time.

"It . . . it just doesn't work that way," Severus replied with a small sigh.

"Are you sighing at me you little wanker?" Tobias hissed at him, wrestling himself out of his chair. "You'll answer my fucking question without attitude. You're as tall as I am now, but I'll still beat the snuff outta you!"

Tobias staggered to the side as Severus looked up at him, wishing he could just get out of here. But he had nowhere to go, other than Hogwarts. He winced as his father shuffled closer, his hands curled into fists. Eileen began humming to herself loudly, something she always did when Tobias beat Severus. She learned to do it years ago when he nearly killed her for coming to her son's aid. Now she'd sing not to hear the sickening thuds and Tobias' curses. Severus never said a thing when being beaten. In the other timeline, he would be the same way under Voldemort's tortures. Being silent was his strength, his resistance, his quiet way of showing his defiance.

The young wizard stared up at his father, his face an open target. Tobias always went for the face first, getting satisfaction knocking Severus down, before punching and kicking his curled body.

Suddenly, a loud fluttering came from the chimney and Tobias turned around.

A sooty owl flew out of the hearth and toward Severus, who slipped around his father and lifted his arm so the dirty bird could land on it. The owl sneezed and held out its foot. Tobias fell silent. He always did when he saw anything to do with magic, which he feared when it came from an outside source. There were more of them out there, and maybe one day they would come and punish him for his mistreatment of his wife and son.

But they never did.

Severus took the envelope off of the owl's outstretched leg, and shook his head apologetically at having nothing to offer the bird. The owl looked around the sad dwelling, and at Tobias, who was glaring at it, then gave Severus' lank hair a little preen and let out a soft, sympathetic hoot as if to say, "You have bigger troubles, mate," then flew back up the chimney.

"It's early for one of those blasted letters," Tobias growled, swaying in place before backing up and falling back into the threadbare armchair as Severus opened the letter. He read it, then blinked disbelievingly.

"Wot's it say?" Tobias demanded.

"I've been chosen Head Boy," Severus said quietly.

In the kitchen, his mother stopped humming and abandoned her dishes, wiping her hands on her apron and appearing in the doorway. She didn't dare go any farther, but she looked at Severus, her brown eyes shining.

"Head Boy?" she asked, almost fearfully.

Severus looked up at her.

"Yes, mum. I'm Head Boy, if I accept," he said.

"You? Who in their bloody right mind would choose you to be Head Boy?" Tobias snarled, taking a swig from the almost empty bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He might cry broke, but he always seemed to have enough money for liquor.

"You're nothing. A waste of breath. Not even a decent son," the Muggle said.

But Severus wasn't paying attention to him, he was looking at his mother who had tears in her eyes, and a small, unaccustomed smile on her face. She never smiled much . . . and neither did he. There was so little joy in their lives.

"That's wonderful, Severus. Of course you'll accept . . . but that means you have to go back to Hogwarts . . . immediately," she said, emphasizing the "immediately."

She wanted him out of here and beyond Tobias' reach. He was going to be seventeen soon. He wouldn't have to come back, and as much as she loved her son, she didn't want him to come back.

"Yes. Yes, I do. I'll get my things later," Severus said, drawing his wand.

"Hey! Just a fucking min . . ." Tobias snarled as Severus Disapparated with a crack of thunder.

Severus was not yet seventeen, and so by rights had violated the rule against using magic outside of Hogwarts, but his mum was a witch, so his illegal use of it went undetected. Not to mention he wasn't suppose to Apparate yet, but . . . he was a Slytherin. Bending the rules was par for the course. He could Apparate since he was fifteen.

"He didn't ask my permission if he could go! I might have wanted him to do something," Tobias snarled as Eileen withdrew into the kitchen, returning to her dishes as her drunken husband raged. It wouldn't be long before he came into the kitchen and took out his frustration on her, but that was all right.

At least Severus made it out.

That was the happiest day of Severus Snape's life, as well as his best year at Hogwarts. And like Dumbledore said, he was a good Head Boy. He showed a bit of nepotism toward his fellow Slytherins, and assigned James Potter the worst Prefect duties he could think of, as well as took Sirius, Peter and Remus to task every chance he got, but Lily was usually able to lessen the impact of his authority, managing to undermine it in some way.

It was an odd Head Boy/Head Girl relationship, considering that neither of them spoke to the other, but corresponded through memos and notes when they had to work together. Lily had been horrified to find out Snape was Head Boy and could find no logical reason for it, because she couldn't see through her own erroneous perceptions of him. How accomplished he was, how much more suitable he was for the position.

When Severus found out he had to make speeches, he studiously applied himself to his diction, improving his vocabulary and his delivery so he didn't sound like a street scamp. He learned to speak rather quietly, because people listened harder. His first speech about the upcoming school year and his plans for the student body and what would and would not be tolerated was given with quiet, understated authority. He didn't show any nervousness, he couldn't or else he wouldn't be taken seriously. He made it a point to tell the student body that any misconduct of Prefects should be reported directly to him and that it would be taken seriously, promising that no one would abuse their power while he was Head Boy, and any overt acts of favoritism or targeting would be punished quickly.

"We are all the same," Snape said from the podium. "We are all students and although the Prefects, I and Lily Evans have certain rights and privileges that you don't, be assured those rights and privileges will not be abused. All will be treated fairly."

From the dais, Albus Dumbledore nodded sagely. He knew he had chosen the right wizard for the job. Lily also spoke, but her speech was more of a pep talk than anything and nothing compared to Severus' sober, thoughtful presentation. Unlike Severus, she got applause, but it was all rather hollow. It was clear Severus was quite serious about his responsibilities and wasn't trying to win any popularity contests.

The Marauders didn't have a stellar year, to say the least. It seemed Severus always magically appeared whenever they were about to do mischief, and James was curtailed most of all, because he was a Prefect and had to be an example of right conduct.

He was absolutely miserable. Snape had him on Thestral duty, bathroom duty, dungeon duty, and assisting Hagrid. He always gave him the least visible and most mundane assignments, so he got very little glory being a Prefect. Severus also had "spies" among the student body, who watched Potter and his cronies, which was why he almost always managed to thwart their little plans.

Lily would always try to get to the morning meetings before Severus, and sometimes she did, but usually he'd have his assignments passed out to his half of the Prefects, which always included James before she did. Lily did bring it up to Dumbledore, who told her he thought it fitting that Severus give James his duties, since the two of them were involved. This way, it would be fair.

Lily snorted. Fair? James always shoveling Thestral shit with Hagrid was hardly fair. But Dumbledore had spoken and that's all there was to it.

It was the best year of Snape's life . . .

. . . and the worst.

* * *

Young Severus Snape stood alone in the unkempt graveyard, rain drizzling lightly, his hair wet and clinging to his head as he looked down at the two freshly-covered graves that contained the mortal remains of Tobias and Eileen Snape.

His father had finally snapped, killing his mother in a rage, then himself. There were no relatives, no other family left for the wizard.

He was alone now.

As he stood there, he felt a presence, a comforting arm wrapped around his shoulder. It was Tom Riddle. He'd heard about the murder-suicide and come out of hiding to take advantage of Severus' pain and anger.

"You see why I want power, Severus? With power, I can stop things like this from happening. Your mother was a decent witch, murdered by your cruel Muggle father like a sheep at slaughter," he said softly.

Severus stared down at the graves, silent, feeling Tom's comforting arm. He was the only one who cared enough to attend. Dumbledore was away, and there was no professor at the school supportive enough to stand by him during this difficult time. He identified the bodies alone, made what scant arrangements he could, selling some of his most precious books to make sure they were put away properly.

"How is the elixir coming along?" Tom asked him.

Severus shifted. Maybe if he had worked harder, Tom could have come into power and stopped this from happening. Well, he might stop it from happening to someone else.

"I've made great strides. It should be ready in about three weeks," Snape replied.

Tom patted his shoulder.

"Good," he said, "and how are things at school?"

Severus told him how he returned to the school after identifying the bodies of his parents to find a parchment drawing on his bed of a witch being strangled by a man, who then shot himself. He believed Sirius Black had somehow placed it there.

"So cruel," Tom said softly, "but I promise Severus, help me and neither Sirius Black nor James Potter will ever trouble you again.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the graves.

"I will help you," he said.

He returned to Hogwarts and stoically continued his Head Boy duties, suffering through Sirius Black's veiled references to his murderous father, the young wizard's heart filling with hatred until it blazed like fire every time he saw the Gryffindor. But he didn't act. He waited.

Tom would solve this problem for him once and for all after he administered the improved elixir.

But it never happened.

Three weeks later, he met one Hermione Granger

* * *

  
A/N: I'm sorry for all the jumping about, but in the books, we never got a chance to see Snape's best memory, and I personally was left with a feeling that Dumbledore never really made up for not doing anything when Sirius almost got Snape killed by luring him to a transformed Remus, or helping him at all when under attack by the Marauders. I never imagined Snape to be a tattletale, so he probably just dealt with it, doing his best to retaliate without getting in trouble for it and doing it rather successfully. So I wanted to address this and had his last year be a good one, and that's why Snape was Head Boy rather than James, sort of redeeming Dumbledore in the process. I hope you enjoyed this Alternative Universe version of the timeline. It also explains the difference between his speech as a youth and how he developed his speaking voice. Thanks for reading.

A/N/N: I had to include the death of his parents. It was a grave oversight. I guess I was so caught up in the good, I forgot about the bad. Both of his parents were dead when he met Hermione.


	9. Chasing a Dream

**Chapter 9 Chasing a Dream**

Neville kneeled over the open trap door and shined his wand down inside it. All he could see was well, nothing but black space. He looked up at Hermione.

"There's nothing in there, Hermione. It's just a long drop," he said, rising and dusting off his robes. "I can't even see the ground."

"There's nothing in there now, but before it was filled with a writhing layer of deadly Devil's Snare," she told him.

"Before? What do you mean before? You had a dream, Hermione," Neville said a bit worriedly. "There was never Devil's Snare there."

Hermione looked up at Neville and saw the concerned look in his eyes. Neville was a good friend, and very supportive, but it was easy to see he was getting very worried about her and these dreams. To dream strange dreams was one thing, but to go trying to verify them . . . well, that was something else entirely. She hadn't told him about being in Harry's room and he knew nothing about the Time Turner Snape had taken from her.

"Hermione, I'm worried about you. Anyway, didn't you go to Madam Poppy to get some help for these dreams? What happened?" he questioned her, folding his arms now.

When Neville Longbottom folded his arms, he was going into "mule mode." Which meant he wasn't budging until he got some answers. He could be pushed, pulled and even kicked and he wouldn't give an inch of ground. He was so stubborn sometimes, but usually with good reason.

"Neville," Hermione said desperately, "I . . . I really think there's more to these dreams, and there's something I didn't tell you about . . . something really strange and embarrassing that happened just before I started having these dreams. I just want to see if I find anything that corresponds with what's been filling my head night after night. If you come with me, I promise . . . I'll tell you everything. Don't think I'm nutters, Neville . . . please."

Neville looked down into Hermione's desperate brown eyes and sighed, unfolding his arms.

"All right, but I want to know what you're looking for in advance. That way I can tell if you are really finding anything or making it up as you go along," he said to her with a frown.

"Neville Franklin Longbottom! I'd never do that!" Hermione exclaimed.

Neville arched an eyebrow at her.

"It wouldn't be the first time you've stretched the truth to get your way, Hermione. You're a right good little liar when you set your mind to it," he replied evenly.

Hermione colored. Yes, she would "stretch" the truth a bit sometimes. But just a little. Neville was such a stickler about not losing house points and following the rules. Hermione thought it was because both of his parents were Aurors and it was in his blood. So she may have intimated there was a rare plant in the Forbidden Forest that had gone to seed to get him to come with her while she collected Deadly Nightshade for some potion she was illegally brewing for acne, of which she had developed a horrible case.

"It was right here, Neville," she said, furrowing her brow at an empty patch of ground as Neville narrowed his eyes at her. They became even narrower when Hermione looked five feet to the right and exclaimed, "Oh, Deadly Nightshade! I might want a bit of that," and set about harvesting it.

He knew he'd been duped and lectured an unrepentant Hermione all the way back to the castle. It wasn't the first time she'd done it to him, or the last.

"All right. In this room, there was a layer of Devil's Snare. We dropped down a long ways and fell into it, and it tried to strangle us, but I used a bluebell fire spell on it and it released us. We dropped neatly to the floor below," Hermione said.

"We?" Neville asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were with me," she explained.

"Weasley and Potter?" Neville said, shaking his head.

Hermione had only a few words for Ronald Weasley, and an angry, flicking wand for Harry Potter. They were two very unlikely companions. Neville looked doubtful.

"Go on, what happened next?" he asked her, his arms folding again.

"Well, we walked down a long, sloping passageway. The walls were damp and we heard clinking sounds. We entered a brilliantly lit chamber with a high ceiling above us and it was filled with what we thought were flying birds," Hermione continued. "There was a door on the other side and we were worried that the birds would attack us if we went for it. Then Harry saw they weren't birds, but keys."

"Keys?" Neville exclaimed. "Flying keys? Oh, Hermione."

"Just listen, Neville! There were broomsticks and when we found the door was locked, we figured out we had to each get a broom, fly up and find the right key for the door. Ron identified what it would probably look like, so we flew up . . ."

"That had to be a dream, Hermione. You hate flying," Neville commented.

"Will you let me tell you what happened?" Hermione said with irritation now.

"All right. All right," Neville said placatingly.

"So we flew up, Harry caught the key and we opened the door. In the next room was a giant chessboard, with great stone black and white pieces. Three of the black pieces were missing and we had to replace them and play a game of Wizard's Chess to get to the next door. Ron got clobbered by the White Queen, but we made it," she said smiling at the memory of it.

She really wasn't wild about Ron Weasley at all. They had left him knocked out.

"Can you hurry this up, Hermione? Lunch is going to be over in another half an hour," he said to her.

"We entered another room, and there was a troll, but someone had already taken care of it and it was out cold," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling. Her dreams were so lucid she could still smell the stinking beast.

"So we walked into the next room, and purple fire sprang up behind us, and black fire in front of us. We were trapped, but there was a table with seven differently shaped and colored bottles on them. Potions. I had to figure out which potion would put out the black fire and which would put out the purple fire. It was a logic puzzle and I had to figure out a riddle on parchment. I think professor Snape made it up," she said.

"Because he's a Potions master," Neville said rather dully.

"Naturally," Hermione said. "Anyway, Harry went through the door by himself, sending me back to check on Ron. He got the Sorcerer's stone before Lord Voldemort did, but he had to fight professor Quirrel. He had two faces, one on the back of his head, according to Harry. He was possessed by . . .

"Hold it. Professor Quirrel? The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Neville said with a snort, "You have to be kidding me. Professor Quirrel wouldn't fight anyone. He's scared of his own shadow!"

Professor Quirrel's was such a nervous teacher, that the students called him professor Squirrel behind his back, saying if you surprised him, he'd run squeaking up the closest tree. He truly was a nervous individual, who spoke with a slight stutter and didn't like to come into physical contact with other people. He never shook hands and his classroom stunk of garlic. He wore a turban supposedly given him as a reward for getting rid of a zombie, although he never spoke of exactly how he did it. Rumor had it, that it was stuffed with garlic too, because some pissed off vampire was after him. So he was quite jumpy, particularly at night.

"He was possessed by Voldemort," Hermione explained.

"But . . . " Neville pressed.

Hermione put her hands on her hips.

"You told me to tell you what was in my dream, and I did, Neville. I'm not going to stand here arguing with you about how logical it is. Now, come on . . . we have to go down there," she said, conjuring a small rock.

"What's that for?" Neville asked her.

"Well, I need to estimate how far down the floor is," Hermione explained. "I'll do this by dropping the stone and timing how long it takes to hit bottom. A dropped object starts its fall quite slowly, but then steadily increases its velocity each second by a constant amount . . ."

"Don't bother, Hermione," Neville said, waving away her explanation. "I'll never get it. Just drop the stone."

"Oh," Hermione said, blinking up at him as if unable to believe he couldn't grasp the simple concept. It was easily expressed through algebraic equations. Ah well. She dropped the stone counting off the seconds out loud. Four seconds had passed before it hit solid ground.

Neville looked pale.

"That sounds like a long drop," he said, "and I don't think I still bounce."

"You won't bounce. We're going to climb down," Hermione said, conjuring up a very large coil of rope and securely knotting it to a strong looking sconce on the wall. Neville threw the rope into the yawning black hole, his expression doubtful.

He'd do this, only because he knew if he didn't, Hermione would most likely come back here later and do it by herself. When she got it in her head to do something, nothing could stop her.

"Let me go down first," he said, grasping the rope and letting himself down slowly.

Hermione waited and waited. After about five minutes Neville called up to her.

"I've done it. It's a hard climb, Hermione," he said to the witch.

"Don't worry Neville, I can do it, Hermione said, lifting her robes and wrapping a good amount of fabric around the rope and clutching it tightly with her hands. Using the fabric as a buffer, she slid down the rope very quickly toward the small glow of Neville's lit wand, tightening her grip to slow down as she reached the floor.

"How'd you do that?" Neville asked her, amazed. She had reached the bottom twice as fast as he had.

Hermione tapped her temple with one hand as she pulled out her wand.

"Brains, Neville, brains," she replied smugly. "They can be just as good as muscles. Now come on. Let's see what we can find."

They walked through the area. Indeed there was a passageway that sloped downward, and a door that opened on a high ceiling room, but it wasn't brightly lit, and then there was a door, unlocked as well.

Hermione walked through it and froze.

Neville entered and stopped beside her, his mouth dropping open as they shined their wands on what lay before them.

A huge chessboard with large sized pieces.

"It's here," Neville breathed, his eyes wide as he looked at Hermione in disbelief, "the chessboard's really here. How can this be possible, Hermione?"

Hermione stared at the ghostly White Queen, which stood partly in shadow. Slowly, she responded to his question.

"Well, it could be my dreams are based on reality, Neville," she said softly, but her brown eyes were excited. "A reality that never happened. Then again, it could be some kind of divination too. Precognition. But there's one sure way to find out for certain. This wasn't all I dreamed last night. There was one more dream before it . . ."

She turned and looked at the stunned wizard, a slightly crazed glow in her eyes reflected by the wand light. Neville recognized that look. It was a look Hermione got when she believed she knew something no one else did.

It was rather frightening, actually.

"I need to talk to Hagrid, the groundskeeper," she breathed.

* * *

After classes that evening, Hermione and Neville hurried across the grounds for the groundskeeper's small hut. Neither of them had ever visited the half-giant before. Hagrid was a rather quiet, solitary fellow, often the brunt of student jokes. He lived alone and as far as anyone knew, did no magic. On occasion he could be seen leaving the Hogwarts grounds on some errand for Dumbledore.

There was a sadness to Rubeus Hagrid, the kind of sadness that comes from being a man wrongly accused and punished, ostracized because of an act that he had nothing to do with, a terrible act that had caused a young witch her life. He wasn't accused of causing the actual death, but his actions were deemed to have facilitated it. It was an onus that followed him all of his days.

Hagrid sat before the fire in the hut, his large hands clamped around a mug of hot soup. He sipped it, his whiskery beard catching some of the steaming liquid. He started when a knock sounded on the door.

He put his mug down on a roughly hewn wooden table and heaved his bulk up out of the chair and lumbered over to the door.

"Who's out thar?" he said through the door.

"It's . . . it's Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, Mr. Hagrid," Hermione replied.

"Wot 'd yah want?" he asked suspiciously. He'd been pranked on occasion by students and wasn't taking any chances.

"I'd like to talk to you, sir," Hermione said, "I'm doing a report on historical occurrences at Hogwarts and would like to interview you."

Both of Hagrid's bushy black eyebrows rose.

"Ter interview me? Well, now . . . tha's all right," he said with a smile.

No one ever paid him any attention. He pulled the door opened and looked down at Hermione and Neville, who both swallowed. He was bigger than they thought.

"Come on in. Make yerselves comf'table," the wizard said genially, waving his hand at the clutter.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured, walking past him.

They settled on a bench. The hut was close and the air slightly stale. It could use a good airing out. Hagrid grasped two brown, round and rather hard looking buns in his dirty hands, offering them to Neville and Hermione.

"Rock cake?" he asked them politely.

Both Hermione and Neville declined.

"Thank you, Mr. Hagrid, but we both just ate and couldn't possibly eat other bite," she said, not wanting to offend him by turning down his hospitality.

Hagrid put the rock cakes down on the table with a clunk.

"Well, yah kin wrap 'em up and take 'em wit you when yah go," he said smiling, lowering his bulk into the chair. "Now, wot'd yah wan' ter talk 'bout?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"What can you tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked.

* * *

A/N: Uh oh. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	10. Cracking the Shell

**Chapter 10 Cracking the Shell**

"Eh now! Wot's this really 'bout? Why'd yah wan' ter know 'bout tha'?" Hagrid asked Hermione, his dark eyes flicking between her and Neville.

Neville swallowed again, his hand shifting reflexively to his pocket where his wand was. Hagrid was really, really big.

"Well . . . Mr. Hagrid, sir, I'm trying to write about a topic that no one else will consider, and I looked at the school records and you attended Hogwarts at the time people said the Chamber of Secrets was opened. I could've talked to Dumbledore, but I wanted a student's impression of what was going on."

Hagrid relaxed a bit. That made sense. A staff member would pretty it all up and probably call it a myth. Hagrid knew there was something sinister at the school. At least back then.

"Yeah, I was 'ere all right," he said heavily, pulling on his beard. "It wuz a terrible thing wot happened. Jes' terrible."

"What happened?" Hermione pressed.

"Thar' wuz a girl, a friend really . . . named Myrtle. She were a Muggle-born, yah know. Kinda mousy, big glasses. Tha' other students used ter pick on 'er somethin' awful. We talked sometimes. They used ter pick on me too, on account I'm a half-giant, so we 'ad somethin' in common, yah know? She wuz nice, she wuz."

Hagrid's eyes began to fill with a large amount of water, and he wiped at them with one large hand. Hermione's heart went out to him. He seemed like a kind and sensitive man despite his size and appearance. He pulled a dirty handkerchief out of his coat pocket and blew in it soundly before tucking it back.

"Thar'd been some threats 'gainst Muggle-borns, written in rooster blood on tha' walls, something about Salazar Slytherin's 'eir come to drive them out usin' tha monster in the Chamber of Secrets," Hagrid said. "I didn' think much 'bout it. Figured it wuz jes' some Slytherins muckin' 'bout, tryin' ter scare people. Wuz differen' times then."

Hermione nodded as did Neville, very interested now.

"But Headmaster Dippet took it ter 'eart an' everyone wuz on guard, watchin'. A coupla' Muggle-borns come up petrified . . . then . . . then poor Myrtle were foun' dead in tha' girl's bathroom on tha second floor. Not a mark on 'er. Jes' . . . dead."

Hermione nodded, trying not to show her excitement, and Neville's eyes went round. Hermione had told him the whole dream scenario, and she said the moaning girl ghost in the second floor bathroom had been killed by something horrible. But Hermione never said by what. Nor did she say what the Chamber of Secrets was either. He figured it must be a chamber that held some kind of monster. Did it really exist? If it did, where was it? Why didn't anyone do anything about it?

"Did they ever find out what killed her?" Neville asked the half-giant, who seemed to sink lower in his huge chair, his eyes filling again.

"No, they didn', but they thought they did, everyone 'ceptin' Dumbledore," he muttered. "I had a spider . . . an Acromantula named Aragog. Tweren't no bigger than a bulldog at tha' time. I were hidin' 'im yah know, 'cause of the monster thing. He weren't no monster but people wuz ter scared ter see tha' an' I knew I 'ad to get 'im out tha' castle before he wuz foun'. But I was bein' watched, see? An' he wuz found out. He got away, but I wuz kicked out 'er Hogwarts an' my wand snapped in two. The killings stopped afta tha' so they thought they wuz right 'bout me an' Aragog. But they weren't. It's wuz never us. Thar wuzn' a mark on Myrtle but they still blamed us."

"So, they never found out what really killed Myrtle, Mr. Hagrid?" Hermione pressed him. "What do you think it was?"

"Tha' were easy. Roosters bein' killed, people bein' petrified, spiders leavin' the castle . . . Aragog wuz scared ter death he wuz, told me he wanted out an' fast," Hagrid said.

Neville's brow furrowed.

"Told you?" he asked.

"Yah, told me. Aragog could talk," Hagrid said as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

Neville rolled his eyes. This was a total waste of time. Hagrid was clearly short a few cauldrons. This whole story could've happened in his mind. His eyes shifted to Hermione and he made a circular motion with his index finger to his temple, thus showing her his opinion as Hagrid wiped at his eyes again. She scowled at him.

"Acromantulas are wizard-bred spiders native to Borneo, Neville," she said to him sharply. "They're part of the reason for the ban on experimental breeding. And they really can talk."

Neville looked at the bushy-haired encyclopedia beside him, shrugged and said, "Oh."

He knew better than to challenge the gospel according to professor Granger.

Hagrid gave her a smile.

"Yer a smart little witch," he said as Hermione blushed. But she recovered quickly.

"So, what do you think it was, Mr. Hagrid?" she asked him.

"Jes' call me Hagrid," he said to her, "tha formality makes me uncomfortable."

"Hagrid," Hermione said with a small smile.

"Like I said, it 'twere easy ter figure out ifn' yah knew the signs. A basilisk," the half-giant said, nodding his head.

Neville turned as white as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, Gryffindor's resident ghost. Nearly Headless Nick for short.

"A . . . a . . . basilisk?" he repeated.

Hermione turned to him.

"Yes, a basilisk," Hermione replied, then turned back to Hagrid.

"I've only one more question for you, M . . . Hagrid," she said, her heart pounding a bit.

"Go 'head," he responded amicably.

Hagrid hadn't had a chance to talk about his innocence in years. No one but Albus seemed to want to believe him. It felt good to be able to tell his side of it.

"Who found you out?" she asked him.

Hagrid scowled.

"Tom Riddle. He were tha' one," he said darkly, "an' I think he set me up too. He weren' as good as people thought. He didn' like Myrtle at all. Called 'er Mudblood all tha time, 'e did. Pure evil tha' one. They foun' 'im dead few years later. Never foun' out who killed 'im. But I never trusted 'im. Not a bit," Hagrid answered.

Hermione thanked Hagrid and she and Neville left.

The half-giant stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light inside his hut, watching the two cross the grounds and stroking his brushy beard thoughtfully. Hagrid might not be the quickest broom in the shed, but he noticed one odd thing about Hermione's interview.

She wasn't taking notes.

Students were required to have notes when compiling material, particularly information gathered from word of mouth. He knew that much from when he attended Hogwarts himself.

"Thar's somethin' else goin' on 'ere," he said to himself, "I might 'ave ter keep an eye on thos' two. Thar up ter somethin', tha's fer sure."

* * *

Hermione sat in Neville room, cross-legged on his bed, as he paced back and forth.

"A bloody basilisk? At Hogwarts? Do you think it's possible, Hermione?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"Well, I didn't see it in my dreams. But I heard about it from Harry. I got petrified by it, so was out of the loop really, but I had figured it out myself and had a page I tore out of a library book in my hand when they found me . . ."

"Hermione! YOU tore a page out of a library book? You?" he said incredulously. "That had to be a dream, or else you would have turned yourself into the Ministry."

Be serious, Neville," she hissed.

Neville sobered, then said, "Look Hermione, I have to admit something weird is going on here, but maybe you've developed some kind of divination powers, like professor Trelawney. You're seeing just bits of the past and your mind is filling in the blanks with fantasy. It's possible you know."

Hermione blinked at him. Like Trelawney? She was the biggest fraud going in Hermione's opinion. It was time to tell Neville the truth. She patted the bed.

"Sit down, Neville. I'm going to tell you something that I want you to keep to yourself, all right? And I don't want you rushing out of here to punch Potter's lights out either," she said to him sternly.

Neville's face went black.

"What? What did he do, Hermione?" he asked her in a low voice.

"He, he didn't do anything really. Professor Snape came in," she said haltingly.

"In? In where?" Neville demanded.

If Potter had laid one filthy Slytherin paw on Hermione he'd . . .

"Neville, try to control the testosterone," Hermione said. He had turned quite red and it was easy to see he was working himself into a rage without even knowing what happened. He was so protective. He was like the big brother she never had.

"Just tell me what happened," he growled at her.

Hermione recounted that evening, how she found herself in Harry's room dressed only in her bra and knickers, with no idea how she got there.

"Harry thought . . . he thought I came there to shag him," Hermione said, her face crimson.

Neville didn't say anything. Being a young wizard himself, he could see how Harry could come to such a conclusion. He had no idea how he'd react if a witch suddenly appeared in his bedroom dressed only in her bra and knickers.

He'd probably faint.

But then, when Hermione told him how Harry had petrified her and put her in his bed and started to undress, the look on Neville's face was terrible. It didn't matter how she was dressed, if she wasn't willing he should have just let her go.

"But professor Snape walked in, almost as if he expected me to be there, Neville," she told the irate wizard. "He brought me to his office and made sure I was all right."

"What did he do to Potter?" Neville hissed, knowing whatever it was, the punishment wouldn't suit the crime.

"I think he has detention with Hagrid," she replied.

Neville snorted.

"He should have gone to jail. He was going to rape you, Hermione," Neville said, his eyes bloodshot.

"But he didn't Neville. Let's get past that, because there's more. Professor Snape knows why I was there, I'm sure of it. He told me that I didn't think about my 'return.'"

Neville straightened.

"Your return?" he repeated. "Your return from where?"

Hermione swallowed.

"I don't know. But I was wearing a Time Turner, Neville," she said in a low voice.

Neville just stared at her for a full five minutes.

"Where did you go?" he asked her.

"I just told you I don't know, Neville," Hermione replied, "but . . . what bothers me is I don't remember. I used a Time Turner in my third year, and I always remembered where and when I went. But this time, there's nothing. That's so strange. I'm beginning to think . . . to think I went so far back in time, that I changed something. Something important. But I don't know what exactly."

Neville stood up again and started pacing, then he looked at Hermione soberly.

"Did you dream about me, Hermione?" he asked her. "Was I in any of those dreams?"

Hermione blinked up at him. Yes, Neville was in her dreams, but he was much different then, and his parents were in St. Mungo's, nearly vegetables from being tortured by an Unforgivable by someone named Bellatrix LeStrange. He was shy, uncertain and somewhat of a bumbler. He showed some signs of courage, but he was nothing like the sure, confident young man he was now. Still, he was a wiz at Herbology.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"What . . . what was I like?" she asked him.

"Neville, it doesn't matter. It was just a dream, it didn't really happen. It's who you are now that matters," she said, trying to avoid telling him what she knew.

Neville stared at her.

"Hermione, even I can figure out that whatever you used that Time Turner for changed history in some way. That's the only explanation. Now that you've told me about the Time Turner, your dreams make sense. Maybe you never thought about this because you changed your own life as well. It went fine until . . . until . . . well maybe you went back when you were this age, and . . . and now you're in paradox. You remember how everything was before you changed it. It's . . . it's an alternate timeline."

Hermione blinked up at him.

"What was I like Hermione? Were we friends?" he asked her.

"Yes, but not close friends, Neville. I used to help you out in Potions class," she said to him. "I was friends with Harry and Ron. We hung out together all the time. But you had your own friends."

Neville absorbed this. He couldn't imagine not having Hermione as his friend. True, he was popular with the other students, but Hermione was truly his best friend, and had been from the very beginning when she had been new to the wizarding world. He helped show her the ropes and felt responsible for her ever since. He was glad life turned out this way.

"What about my parents? They were all right, weren't they?" he asked the witch, who lowered her eyes. Neville blinked.

"Weren't they?" he asked again.

Hermione shook her head.

"No, Neville, they weren't. You were raised by your grandmother," she said.

Neville stared at her.

"By Gran? Oh, Merlin . . . that couldn't have been good. I love Gran, but she's a real nag. Finds something wrong with everything," he breathed, then, "what happened to my parents. Were they . . . dead?"

Hermione shook her head.

"They were sick, Neville. Irreversibly sick. They had been tortured until they lost their minds by people who followed Voldemort," she said softly.

"That evil wizard that wanted to . . . to kill Harry?" he asked her.

"Yes. And . . . and he was the same wizard who went by the name of Tom Riddle. Harry told me about it in the dream about the Chambers. Tom Riddle was Voldemort," she said to him.

"But Tom Riddle was murdered," Neville said.

"And never became Voldemort," she added, her brows furrowing. There was something she was missing, something she was overlooking.

"Hermione?" Neville said to her, his voice quavering. "Do you think whatever you did had something to do with Tom Riddle never becoming Voldemort? Do you think . . . do you think you could have been the one to . . . to take him out?"

He didn't want to use the word "murder." He couldn't imagine Hermione murdering anyone. But, under the circumstances . . .

Hermione got a cold feeling in her belly as she took his question in. Could she have gone back in time and killed Tom Riddle? Dear gods, was she . .. . was she an assassin? Had she murdered a man?

Hermione wrapped both arms around her middle and hugged herself as she looked up at Neville, who was looking down at her as if he'd never seen her before.

"I . . . I don't know," she said softly, "I just don't know, Neville."

Once again, Neville sat down beside her, and both of them sat silently for a while, then Hermione said with a hint of iron in her voice.

"I don't know if I killed Tom Riddle, Neville, but I think I know who does. I've got to go," she said, rising and exiting his room. Neville started to follow her, but sat back down again.

This was something she needed to find out for herself.

It was after curfew, but Hermione needed to see professor Snape and see him tonight.

* * *

A/N: :shakes head: Thanks for reading.


	11. Seeking Answers and Getting a Few

**Chapter 11 Seeking Answers and Getting a Few**

"Who's there?" the portrait of the Fat Lady demanded when she was unceremoniously pushed open then closed by a shimmering form. "It's after curfew. You have no business wandering about Hogwarts at this hour!"

Disillusioned, Hermione ignored the painting, hurrying down the corridor as quietly as she could, making her way for the shifting stairwells. Thank goodness they were always shifting or it would make a difficult journey even more difficult.

She mounted the first stairwell, her eyes peeled for Harry Potter. He would be on his rounds now if he hadn't pawned them off on a Prefect. She had no doubts he'd love to catch Hermione "Goody-Two-Shoes" Granger out after curfew. There was the Head Girl to watch for too. But once she made it to the dungeon area, she ought to be all right as long as neither heads were down there. The dungeon corridors were rather narrow.

She heard a "meow" and leaned over the railing to see Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, walking through the Entrance Hall. Hermione held her breath. Mrs. Norris might smell her. She watched as the animal rubbed up against the rusted suit of armor several times, then headed in the direction of the classroom area. Hermione missed two stair connections waiting for the cat to disappear down the corridor. She didn't dare make a move.

Finally, she timidly stepped onto the next set of stairs, and the next, making her way down to the second floor, then tiptoeing up the corridor and by professor McGonagall's office, then down the narrow flight of stairs that led to the first floor landing. She peered out of the open doorway and seeing no one, eased down the marble staircase that led to the Entrance Hall.

So far, so good. She was just about to make the left and descend the narrow staircase that led to the dungeons when she heard something. Quickly, she pressed against the wall, holding her breath. Her shimmer would be noticed if focused on.

Her eyes widened as professor Snape emerged. He was doing his own rounds. The wizard walked out a little distance into the Hall, slowed, then stopped. He stood there a moment, Hermione staring at his back, not sure what she should do.

That decision was taken away from her when Snape suddenly spun, strode up to her and grasped her by her shoulder. His face twisted, the wizard pulled out his wand, pointed it at her and hissed, "Finite Incantatem!"

The Disillusionment spell ended, and Hermione melted into view.

Snape looked surprised, and quickly released the frightened witch.

"Miss Granger? Why are you roaming the castle after curfew?" he asked the witch. "You know that offense is an automatic point loss."

Snape looked very disappointed. He had never taken any points from Hermione. She never gave him a reason.

"Yes, sir, I know," Hermione replied, "but . . . I needed to come see you."

Snape blinked at her.

"You were on your way to see me at this hour, Miss Granger? Surely whatever you wanted to ask me could have waited until tomorrow," he said slowly, wondering what in the world was so important she'd risked point loss and detention.

"Not this, sir. I just wanted to ask you a question," Hermione said to him. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep if I didn't know the answer."

Snape furrowed his brow at her.

"You have the Dreamless Draught, Miss Granger. You can sleep through anything if you are taking it as I directed."

Hermione's brown eyes shifted. Snape caught it.

"You are taking it, aren't you, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

Hermione sighed.

"No, I haven't taken it yet. I decided rather than try to fight my dreams, just to accept them, to really let them take me where they wanted to go," she replied.

"Damn it," Snape thought.

"I made some interesting discoveries," she said. "For instance, I found out that . . ."

"Professor Snape," a voice called.

Both Hermione and Severus looked up to see Harry Potter descending the marble staircase, his green eyes resting on them suspiciously.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said smoothly as the wizard walked up to them.

"What are you doing out after curfew, Granger?" Harry asked the witch, his eyes shifting to Snape for a moment before he returned to glaring at Hermione.

"Apparently trying to sneak down to the kitchens for a late night snack, Mr. Potter. I caught her before she managed to do so," Snape lied.

Harry smiled nastily.

"So, you've finally been caught dirty, Granger. It's about time a bit of tarnish got on your squeaky clean image," Harry gloated, pulling out his pad and a Muggle pen to record the dirty deed.

"Ah, that won't be necessary Mr. Potter," Snape told him. "I will be writing Miss Granger up personally as well as assigning her punishment. I'm about to take her to my office now to see about the details."

Harry couldn't help letting out a little snort. Everyone knew Snape favored the Gryffindor.

"I hope the punishment suits the crime," he said, unable to help himself.

Snape arched an eyebrow at him.

"Judge not so ye be not judged, Mr. Potter," he purred, his meaning unmistakable.

Despite having to work with Hagrid every night, Harry had gotten off easy for what he attempted to do to Hermione. By rights, he should have been arrested. Harry flushed and put his pad and pen away.

"All right, professor," he said, giving Hermione one more mean-spirited glare. "I'm done with my rounds, so I'll head for Slytherin house now."

"You do that, Mr. Potter," Snape replied with a nod. "Good night."

"Good night, sir," Harry said, walking down the stairwell and into the dungeons. At first, he considered Disillusioning himself and spying on the pair, but Snape was notorious for being capable of detecting Disillusioned students. It was almost as if he could sense them. It wouldn't be smart to risk being caught spying. It could cause problems between him and his Head of House if he started distrusting Snape.

Harry shrugged. It wasn't any of his business anyway. He was suspicious though. Seeing Granger and Snape together after curfew when he'd witnessed them embracing just the day before made his radar go off. He disliked Granger so much, he'd like to catch her being less than the Princess everyone thought she was and let the world know it. But he wasn't going to do it at the expense of his relationship with Snape.

If there was something going on, it really didn't have anything to do with him. But Harry did believe the dark wizard when he said he didn't get intimately involved with students. Snape was pretty straight, if sometimes shady. He wouldn't risk losing his job.

Harry headed for Slytherin. He needed to get in a bit of late night study for the upcoming exams.

* * *

"Raiding the kitchens?" Hermione said to Snape once she was sure Harry was gone.

"It was all I could come up with in a pinch, Miss Granger, and is actually a very common late night activity, unless you would have preferred me to tell Mr. Potter you were out here at this hour planning to meet up with your 'beau.' Another very common late night activity," the wizard said, smirking slightly.

Hermione colored, her mind flitting back to the erotic dream she had engaging a young Snape. That first dream had been so unfocused and fragmented, she believed it was just that . . . a dream. The other dreams became clearer after the first.

She cleared her throat.

"Um . . . no. The kitchen story was fine," she said, looking rather embarrassed.

Snape studied her reaction to his words with a bit of interest. When he met Hermione in his past, before they engaged, she had told him that she had a crush on his older self. The wizard idly wondered if that crush managed to make it into this timeline as well. He certainly wouldn't throw her out of a turret window if it did.

He gently caught her arm.

"Come to my office, Miss Granger. We can talk there," he said.

"All right," Hermione replied, the butterflies returning in her belly as she let him lead her down the narrow stairs into the depths of the dungeon corridor. He released her once they reached the bottom and they walked silently down the hall, covered in flickering torchlight, the air rather cold and damp. No matter the time of day, the dungeons always looked like this. But knowing it was night made the area just a bit creepier. Suddenly, the Bloody Baron drifted out of the wall in front of them, Hermione squealing in fright and launching herself at the Potions master, landing in his arms as the ghost passed through the opposite wall and disappeared.

Snape looked down at the terrified witch.

"Really, Miss Granger. You have to learn to be more in control," he said as he let her go. "You've attended Hogwarts for seven years. You should be used to ghosts."

"Well, he startled me," Hermione said in her own defense, although she couldn't help but be aware of how hard the wizard's body was. Last time she embraced him, she hadn't given it a thought.

Gods, crushes sucked.

"Well, if you've sufficiently recovered, let us continue to my office," Snape said, gesturing down the corridor. They began to walk again and presently arrived at their destination. Snape opened the door and let Hermione in, followed and closed it behind him. He pulled out his wand and added a cushion and a bit more support to the rickety chair he kept for unwanted visitors.

"Please sit down, Miss Granger," he said, offering her the seat.

Once she was settled in, Snape walked behind his desk and sat down, folding his hands as he looked at the witch.

"Now, what was the question you wish to ask me, Miss Granger? I imagine it must be quite a question for you to go through all of this," he said to her curiously.

Hermione looked down at her hands for several moments, twisting them nervously.

Snape said nothing. Obviously this was a question of some importance and she needed time to frame it. He'd wait.

After a minute or two, Hermione looked up at him, her eyes dark and haunted.

"Professor Snape," she said softly, "am I . . . am I a murderer?"

Snape's eyes widened.

Obviously, Hermione had figured out she had somehow altered the past, but not exactly how. She must have made the connection to Tom Riddle's or Voldemort non-existence in this timeline. Unfortunately, she'd gotten it wrong. But he needed to know how much she knew before he told her anything.

It was clear he was going to have to tell her something, if not everything.

The witch was too damn smart for her own good.

"A murderer? What do you mean, a murderer, Miss Granger? I doubt you could even step on a bug without feeling guilty about it," the wizard replied with a smirk.

Hermione scowled.

"Professor, you know what I'm talking about. The Time Turner. I went back in time and you were there in Harry's room to make sure I returned safely. You knew I was going to be there. What I want to know is how you knew and where I went. It had to be a time so long ago that it affected how I grew up, changed it, which would explain why I don't remember going anywhere. In this time, I never did."

"Paradox,' the wizard said softly.

"Exactly," Hermione said, elated that the wizard didn't try to deny anything.

Suddenly Snape rose.

"Wait here, Miss Granger. I see it is inevitable that I must tell you the story a bit early, otherwise you are likely to create your own storyline, which is starting out quite erroneously. I assure you . . . you are not a murderer. If anything, you are a savior," he said to her softly, walking over to the corner of his office and pulling on a torch.

The wall slid back and to the side, and he entered his private quarters.

Hermione stared after him. A savior? What did she save? Who did she save? Tom Riddle was dead and she was sure she had something to do with it.

But what?

Snape returned with a book in his hand. It was his copy of "Paradoxically Speaking" by Matera Thyme. He handed it to Hermione, who turned it over in her hands, studying the cover, then she looked up at him in askance.

"I think it would be best for you to get some understanding of the theories behind Time Travel. There are several, but the one I believe is most accurate concerning your situation is highlighted and there are notes written in the margins as well. I want you to familiarize yourself with the concept, then I will tell you the story," he said to her.

"When?" Hermione asked him, "I need to know soon, professor. Everything is just so . . . crazy."

"Tomorrow night. I am assigning you detention with me. It will be an adequate cover and give us time alone without interruption. I don't know if you're aware of this, Miss Granger, but being caught out after curfew has a standard punishment of a week's detention and the loss of twenty house points," Snape told the witch.

Twenty points? Oh, no.

"However, being that I am a staff member, I can use discretion when assigning corrective measures. Since this is your first offense, I will only take five points and give you the one detention. However, if you are caught out after curfew again, you will receive the full Monty," he said soberly.

Hermione sighed with relief. The loss of five points wouldn't sully her school record too badly.

"Thank you, Professor," she said to him softly as he sat back down at his desk, picked up a quill and pulled a small piece of parchment toward him. He looked up at the witch.

"You're welcome, Miss Granger. Now I am going to give you a pass back to Gryffindor House in case Mr. Filch should run across you on your return. I want you to read as much about Time Travel and Paradox as you can between now and tomorrow night, then you will report to me at eight o'clock tomorrow evening. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said.

Snape continued to look at her a moment more, then quickly wrote out a pass. He reached over the desk and Hermione stood and took the parchment from him, her hand coming into contact with his for a moment. She flushed and quickly drew her hand away.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her as she looked down at the floor.

"You may go, Miss Granger. I will see you in class tomorrow," the wizard said softly.

Hermione looked up at him then turned and headed for the door. She pulled it open, then looked back at him. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but all she could get out was, "Good night, professor," then exited his office, closing the door behind her.

Snape sat there quietly brooding.

It seemed that little crush had managed to follow the new timeline after all.

Interesting. Very interesting.

* * *

Hermione read as much of the book as she could before falling asleep, the open tome resting against her chest. She was still fully dressed since she flopped right into bed with the book upon her return. She had indeed been stopped by a very happy Filch, but his happiness was short-lived when she showed him Snape's pass. Grumbling, the arthritic caretaker hobbled off, Mrs. Norris in tow.

Hermione began to dream.

* * *

Hermione was standing in the Head Boy room again, dressed only in her bra and knickers. She had her wand, but also a bowl in her hand. This time Harry wasn't there. Instead, a tall, gangly young Snape appeared from a dark corner, his wand trained on her, his eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?" the young wizard demanded.

Hermione heard herself say, "My name is Hermione Granger. I've come here to help you."

"Help me?" the wizard repeated, his black eyes sweeping over her.

"Help me how? Talk quick," he ordered, shaking his wand at her threateningly.

"You're about to make a terrible mistake and unleash the greatest horror you can imagine on the wizarding world. Thousands are going to die." she said, "Tom Riddle is…"

Suddenly, young Snape was on her, his black eyes wild. He jabbed his wand into the side of her throat, towering over her.

"What do you know about Tom Riddle?" he hissed.

"I know he is going to torture you within an inch of your life every chance he gets," she heard herself gasp.

Snape's face contorted.

"You're lying! Tom wouldn't torture me. I'm going to help him become the greatest wizard in wizarding history. He will be grateful. He will reward me. You know too much, witch…you have to die. No one is supposed to know what is going on," he said coldly, raising his wand to cast an Unforgivable.

"Wait!" Hermione cried out desperately, "The Pensieve…it's from you, the future you. It has your memories of what life is like serving Voldemort…Tom Riddle! Please! Please just look at it!"

* * *

Hermione woke up with a start, her eyes wild as she pushed the book off her. The first cycle of dreams over, Hermione's mind returned to the first dream. the one involving young Snape. Hermione might have once again attributed it to her crush, except this time, the dream was clearer. Much clearer.

She did go back in time, but not to kill Voldemort . . . to talk to professor Snape and convince him not to help the despot come into power.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. It must have worked, because there was no Voldemort now. She felt a coldness in the pit of her belly. She wasn't sure, but she'd bet even Galleons that Tom Riddle's death corresponded with professor Snape's last year at Hogwarts. It had to be his last year, because obviously he was Head Boy.

No, she hadn't killed Tom Riddle.

Someone else did. She wasn't sure if it were Snape however. He just might not have helped him and someone else killed him.

Still, if Snape had killed Tom Riddle, then that meant she wasn't a murderer, but an accessory to murder . . . maybe.

Dear gods.

Then, Hermione was hit with the possibility that her first dream, the one she thought was just a wet dream, most likely wasn't. The Snape in this last dream looked just like the Snape in the first one, pale, gangly, dressed only in his boxers.

And the day she "returned" to this reality, her hymen was suddenly broken, her physical body reflecting the loss of her virginity when the timelines overlapped and synchronized. The loss of her hymen was the only physical proof that she had indeed traveled to the past. Her first sexual experience had been with professor Snape, a young professor Snape.

Oh dear gods.

* * *

A/N: Whew. Lol. Thanks for reading. More to come.


	12. Myrtle and Pure Madness

Chapter 12 Myrtle and Pure Madness

One very wonderful and convenient aspect of Hermione Granger was her ability to "compartmentalize" everything. She could simultaneously agonize over one situation, but handle another, separating them completely until she was ready to deal with them. Another simple way to describe this was she was completely capable of "targeted temporary denial" or pushing one situation to the back of her mind in favor of dealing with another. This 'gift of sidestepping' came from years of dealing with her fear of failure academically, not that she was ever in any danger, but she worried just the same. All she needed to do was focus on what was most important at the time and she was fine.

She read over the book professor Snape gave her, skimming over most of the theories and focusing on what he had highlighted and left notes on. She had an immediate grasp of it.

The fact that she'd slept with the wizard in an alternate timeline was also one she pushed to the back of her mind, not that it was easy. But she knew that it would be dealt with when she next met with him. There was no need to waste energy worrying over it.

Besides, she had something else to pursue. Something rather exciting. Hermione had led a rather dull life at Hogwarts really. Magic was exciting at first, but once she got used to it, it became rather mundane although she did learn new things everyday. But she had never had an adventure. Well, not one she could clearly remember.

That was about to change.

Hermione had managed to evade Neville's questions about where she went the night before, although he had an idea. All she would tell him was, "I'll get my answers tonight, Neville, then I'll tell you what's what."

He had to accept that for now. Of course, Hermione had other things on her mind, things that involved him despite her secrecy.

"Hermione, you really need to let me know in the mornings when you plan on making me skip lunch," Neville complained as Hermione dragged him down a little used corridor on the second floor by his wrist, her eyes determined. "That way I could take a bit extra from breakfast to tide me over."

"Oh Neville, you aren't going to starve to death. Honestly, you sound as if you're on your last leg," Hermione responded. "Missing a meal isn't going to kill you."

"No, it's not, but what you're planning might," he said as Hermione hauled him toward the second floor bathroom.

"Just come on, Neville," she said, letting go of the wizard, pushing open the door to the girl's bathroom and entering. This bathroom was hardly utilized and hadn't worked properly in years. It was always flooding. Another reason it was rarely used was because of someone who inhabited it frequently. Someone who lived there.

Well, "lived" was a bit of a stretch. A better description would be the second floor bathroom was her "haunt," so to speak.

This was someone who Hermione wanted to see quite badly.

"What? You want me to go in there?" Neville said, balking. "That's the girl's bathroom, Hermione! I'm not supposed to . . ."

Suddenly the door swung back and Hermione grabbed him by his robes and hauled him inside.

Neville stood staring at the most dismal bathroom he'd ever seen. It was a gloomy place to say the least. The floor was damp. Stubby, low-burning candles rested in sconces, their dull light reflected off the wet tile. Beneath a large, cracked and spotted mirror was a row of badly chipped sinks, and the wooden bathroom stalls were scratched and flaking. One door dangled off its hinges.

"No wonder no one uses this bathroom. It's a bloody mess," Neville said in a low voice. There was a spooky feel about the place.

"Myrtle? Myrtle, are you in here?" Hermione called out. Her voice echoed eerily.

A low, ghostly moan rose, making the hair on the back of Neville's neck stand up.

"What's that?" he asked Hermione as the moan began to undulate, rising and falling, seeming to come from all sides.

"Dramatics," Hermione replied glibly. "Myrtle's just living up to her name. She's called 'Moaning Myrtle.'"

Ah, Moaning Myrtle. That's right. She was a ghost here at Hogwarts. She wasn't seen much because she mostly stayed in the bathroom or near water. Neville relaxed. Ghosts, he could deal with. Now . . . basilisks? They were a completely different story.

The moaning rose and fell for about a minute more, Hermione folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for Myrtle's grand entrance. She thought she heard whispering in the last stall and started to walk toward it when Myrtle passed through the wooden door, floating toward her.

The ghost was rather dumpy, with a glum face and lank hair. She wore thick, pearly glasses.

"Who wants to talk to poor, moaning Myrtle?" the ghost said. "Poor, pitiful, useless Myrtle?"

Hermione frowned at her.

"Oh, suck it up, Myrtle. You've been dead for years," she snapped at the ghost, irritated at her dramatics. Neville looked on, shaking his head slightly.

"That's easy for you to say. You're still alive," Myrtle snapped back at her, then drifted about despairingly. "I was cut down in my prime, in the bloom of youth . . . I didn't even get a chance to shag anyone."

Here the ghost's wet eyes shifted toward Neville, and she drifted toward him, circling him.

"I'd shag you, if I was alive," she said in a low, ghostly but sultry voice, leaning close, a cold blast of air washing over the shell of his ear when she spoke.

Neville visibly shuddered, going pale. The ghost giggled.

"Myrtle, stop traumatizing Neville and listen to me. I have some questions I want to ask you. About how you died," Hermione said, walking back and pulling Neville away from her.

The wizard sighed with relief. There were few things more disturbing than a dead witch coming on to you. Even in life, Myrtle wouldn't have been his type. He much preferred blondes with protuberant eyes.

Still, what he didn't go through for Hermione. Merlin.

Interested, Myrtle turned toward Hermione.

"My death? You want to know about my death? I'm becoming popular," she said with a hint of a smile. "But there's not much to tell really. I can't remember much about it, only what led up to it."

"Well, tell me what you do remember, Myrtle," Hermione said, a bit softer this time. Myrtle had been murdered after all.

"Well, that horrible bitch Olive Hornsby had been teasing me about my glasses again, making everyone laugh at me and I came here to cry and get away from them. Oh, how I hate her. I'd still be haunting her if she didn't run to the Ministry about me . . . it's all her fault I died," Myrtle said, tears starting to roll down her face.

Neville started to hand the ghost a handkerchief out of his robes pocket, but realized it wouldn't do any good.

"I was crying in the last stall, when I heard somebody speaking and it was a boy's voice," she sniffed, "I opened the door to tell him to get out . . . and then . . . then . . . "

Myrtle let out a long, mournful wail and drifted about dramatically for a moment.

"I died," she said in a quavering voice. "No one even looked for me. It was hours before I was found. That damn Olive Hornsby."

"I'm so sorry, Myrtle," Hermione said, sympathetically.

How horrible. But she wanted to know more.

"Did you feel any pain?" she asked the ghost.

"No. I just saw . . . saw a pair of eyes, yellow eyes . . . over there by the sink in front of my stall. Then I was dead. Dead! Dead!"

Myrtle whipped back through the closed wooden door of the last stall, crying and moaning. Whispering rose for a moment then stopped as Myrtle continued to cry

Hermione blinked, turned to Neville and shrugged.

"That's all we're going to get out of her," Hermione said, walking over to the sink and examining it closely. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the copper tap, and then her face lit up with excitement.

"Here it is, Neville! Just like Harry said in the dream! This is the way in!" she exclaimed.

Neville walked up and looked at the tap. Scratched on the side of it was a tiny image of a snake.

"The way in?" he asked.

"Yes, the way into the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said, turning the tap.

Neville slapped her hand away.

"Don't do that! What if it opens?" he said to Hermione, looking at her as if she were crazy.

"It won't open, Neville. Only someone who can speak Parseltongue can get it to open," Hermione said, frowning slightly. "And the only one who speaks Parseltongue I know of, is professor Quirrel. But I can't ask him. He'd tell Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore should be told, Hermione. If this is the Chamber of Secrets and there's a basilisk down there, someone in authority should know," the wizard said to her, frowning.

"Neville, before we tell anyone about this, we need to verify that this leads to the chamber and that there actually is a basilisk. We don't want to look stupid, do we?" she asked him.

"Better stupid than dead. Hermione, to even look at a basilisk means death. Plus, a basilisk's bite is poisonous," he said to her.

"Neville, for all we know the basilisk is dead. Salazar Slytherin put it in there centuries ago," Hermione said rather desperately. She hoped Neville wouldn't blow the whistle on this. It could be a real adventure.

"We don't know that for sure, Hermione. What if it isn't dead? What if we go down there and it comes after us?" Neville asked her.

Hermione stood straight up.

"We have magic, Neville. We could . . . we could cast the Killing curse on it!"

Neville hesitated, then said, "But you have to have powerful intent to cast a Killing curse, Hermione, you know that. You have to really want someone dead."

Hermione blinked at him. Was he really that dumb?

"Neville," she said evenly, "how much more intent will we need when a basilisk is coming after us? We'll be able to cast it, believe me."

"How would we aim at it, Hermione? We can't even look at it," he said.

Hermione was fucking insane.

"I'll figure out something," she said, "and you can use some of those spells you developed."

Neville had his arms folded. Always a bad sign when Hermione was trying to convince him of something. She bit her lip, trying to find something that would get Neville on board for this. Then a light bulb went off in her head.

"Neville, if we find and kill the basilisk, we'll get an award," she said to him temptingly, "and Luna would notice that."

Neville went immediately goofy. Hermione smirked.

"Luna," he breathed, then, "you really think she'd notice me, Hermione?"

"It could be your way in, Neville. Everybody loves a hero," she said softly, Neville's eyes unfocusing for a moment.

Poor Neville. He had succumbed to the weakness of many men before him. He was willing to do almost anything to get the notice of the woman he fancied.

Even face a basilisk.

"All right. All right, Hermione. I'm willing to try . . . IF . . . and only if we're well prepared," he said. "Everybody might love a hero, but a dead hero can't love anybody back."

Hermione was so happy she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Neville on his cheek. He reddened, and looked sheepish. Young wizards were so easy to manipulate. He never stood a chance.

"Don't worry, Neville. I'll come up with a foolproof plan. We can't do anything anyway until we can figure out how to get a Parseltongue to open it up," the witch said as they headed for the exit.

"Well, you can forget about Quirrel. Even if he didn't run to Dumbledore, he's said more than once that he can't stand snakes. Some Slytherin he is," Neville snorted.

When the pair left, the door to the last stall opened, and Luna Lovegood walked out, followed by Moaning Myrtle. She had been interviewing the ghost in her stall for a report she was writing entitled, "The Life of the Dead."

The first whispering Hermione heard was Luna telling Myrtle not to say she was here. The second bit was Luna comforting her.

The Head Girl walked up to the sink and looked at the small snake on the side of the copper faucet with her protuberant blue eyes.

"Hm, now that's interesting," she said in her dreamy voice.

"Even more interesting than the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

A/N: Hermione is crazy. Lol. So, Luna Lovegood is Head Girl eh? Sounds like Dumbledore struck again on this one. I think there's going to be quite an adventure ahead. I believe I'm going to have to charm up an original spell or two to get through this one. Lolol. If Snape finds out about this, he's going to freak. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	13. The Enigma of Luna Lovegood Among Other

**Chapter 13 The Enigma of Luna Lovegood (Among Other Things)**

Luna Lovegood had just turned sixteen, although she was in her seventh year . . . which rankled Hermione a little, though she didn't talk about it. Hermione was extremely competitive academically, and Luna had been skipped forward a year. She went directly from her first year to her third. As hard as Hermione worked, she had never managed to skip a year.

Neville had teased her when Hermione saw the blonde witch going into a third year class and was told by him that Luna was a third year now.

"What? They skipped her ahead? But why?" Hermione demanded, frowning blackly as they headed down the corridor.

"Because . . . she's absolutely brilliant, Hermione," he sighed. He was already smitten by the strange little witch.

Hermione snorted.

"Luna is the looniest witch I've ever met. She doesn't seem like she can keep one thought in her head for more than five seconds, and she believes in the weirdest things," Hermione fumed.

"Well she must be able to keep something in her head. They skipped her forward a year, didn't they?" Neville said to her with a grin, knowing the witch was furious.

"It had to be a mistake," Hermione said. "They'll catch it."

But . . . they didn't.

It wasn't that Luna was brilliant per se. The secret of her success was she had a photographic memory and remembered everything she saw, heard and read . . . verbatim. But, no one knew this because she never bothered telling anyone. She read quite a bit as a child, all kinds of books and topics just because she thought they might be interesting to read about even if she didn't really understand what she read. So when she arrived at Hogwarts, she knew as much as the professors, technically. Not as applied learning, but a kind of subjective learning. But it was enough to get her out of the second year.

People just assumed she was brilliant, when in fact she was only accessing information stored in her brain. When a topic came up she'd read about, she could answer questions about it. Her fellow Ravenclaws didn't understand how Luna kept her grades up. They never saw her studying. She was always wandering around the school, looking for what they thought were non-existent creatures, reading newspapers upside down, wearing strange ornaments and such.

Usually the newspapers Luna read had puzzles in them that were indeed upside down, the odd necklaces, bracelets and hair ornaments were experimental charms she was working on, and the creatures she was seeking out . . . there was enough proof of their existence to be on the lookout for them in the proper environment, like rare birds. But she never bothered to explain anything to anyone. She really didn't find it necessary.

As far as her apparent lack of study went, Luna simply read all her textbooks ahead of time. No one was the wiser. Luna did take notes in class, but it was more to have something to do than out of necessity, since she remembered every lesson. She had the technical knowledge but she still needed teachers to lay everything out for her in understandable terms.

Another reason no one caught on to Luna's secret, was because she didn't act like a know-it-all. In fact, she acted like she didn't know anything most of the time, appearing to be in a world all her own. If she knew the answer to something no one else did, she generally kept it to herself unless it was important. Then she might share it, starting with, "I read someplace that . . ."

But she didn't do that often. She was a bit of a loner really, although she could sit down with anyone at anytime at any table. Even the Slytherins didn't give her much grief, although she was laughed at behind her back for being so dizzy. Still, Luna didn't give much credence to the House system and mingled with anyone and everyone she liked, and no one really seemed to mind, she was so unobtrusive and quiet most of the time.

Possibly, that's why Dumbledore picked her for Head Girl, because she was so mellow, fair-minded and easy-going. Hermione's name had come up, but Albus nixed it because after review he came to conclusion that the Gryffindor would probably work herself into exhaustion, she was such an overachiever. It was better she continued to focus on her studies.

Actually the Headmaster had no idea how bad it would have been. Hermione would have gotten on everyone's last nerve. A Hermione with power would have been a well-meaning tyrant. As sneaky as she could be, she would have demanded utter compliance with the school rules and ruled with an iron wand. There was also the matter of Harry Potter, her arch-nemesis, who was chosen Head Boy. Sparks would have flown between the two, and no doubt, hexes.

Hermione still had higher marks than Luna, however, because Luna wasn't an overachiever. She did just the right amount of work to keep her marks up. Hermione did loads of extra credit work and extra assignments and so kept her lead.

Since lunch was just about over, Luna said goodbye to Myrtle and headed for her next class, which was Potions. The Ravenclaw had always suspected that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was a basilisk.

It was the only thing that made sense, after all.

As she meandered down the corridor, her book bag slung over one shoulder and looking as if she had no place special to go; Luna idly wondered how long it would take Hermione to figure out how to get the chamber open.

After all, Luna already knew, and a Parselmouth wouldn't have to be present.

* * *

Professor Snape looked at Hermione Granger with hooded eyes as she furiously wrote out a review summary, completely focused. She was already two-thirds down the foot of parchment. Knowing her, she'd turn it over and write on the back although only a foot was required. That was standard Granger, and Severus always patiently read and graded her work, not penalizing her for her overzealousness.

In the other timeline, she would have gotten a failing mark for not following his instructions to the letter if she'd gone even a quarter inch past his specifications. Yes, this was a kinder, more patient Potions master . . . at least as far as Hermione was concerned. Everyone else caught hell. There wasn't much difference between the original Snape and this one, except this incarnation of Snape was unscarred, healthier looking and more social. He demanded his pupils' best efforts, was aware when they were slacking and took them to task for it. He still used his position to garner the House Cup each year. So far they'd kept it for the past seven years, thanks to Harry's skills as a seeker, and Snape's targeted point-taking.

Hermione wasn't as focused on her writing as she appeared to be. Her stomach knotted up the moment she walked into the Potions classroom and she busied herself up immediately so she didn't have to look at professor Snape too much.

Gods, she had actually . . . it was too much to believe. And what was worse, she was sure he remembered it, had known it all along from when she was a little girl fresh from the Muggle world. She'd always thought that he treated her so special because of her mind and abilities, but now she wondered if he favored her because of what they'd done. Because he had shagged her.

Hermione had no idea what she had saved the wizard from. The kind of pain and suffering that had been prevented because she came to him when she did. Oh, Snape did remember being with her, but his treatment was based on more than a one-time tumble with an available young woman at a time in his life when he needed comfort and connection.

When Hermione came to him, his parents had just died. Then he found out the only person in the world that he thought cared about his welfare was going to betray him and make his life a living hell far worse than his father ever did.

Severus had needed Hermione that night. Someone to be close to, to take him away from the harsh reality of his life for just a few passionate moments. Someone who saw him in a way no one else did. Someone who believed he could make a difference, make life better.

Hermione had done that for him, as well as given him the strength and determination to do what he needed to do to save himself, and so many, many others. She sacrificed herself as well, giving him her virginity. Hermione Granger was as much an unsung hero as he was.

Besides, the witch had most likely saved his life. Voldemort's treatment of him might have led to his death. Through what he'd seen in the Pensieve, it was clear that the despot had no respect for him at all, just found him useful. When his usefulness was over, Snape had no doubt Voldemort would have murdered him and thrown his broken, lifeless body away like a piece of trash.

So although he had bedded Hermione, there was much more to Severus Snape's treatment of the young witch. He patiently waited for her to reach adulthood, always showing her the best side of himself, going out of his way to make sure she received a good education, providing challenge after challenge and taking great pride in her advancement. He wanted her to have a good life, a secure one. He wanted Hermione Granger to reach for the stars and grasp one by the tail, knowing the world and everything in it was hers for the taking.

And he wanted to be there when she caught hold.

Severus Tobias Snape loved young Hermione Granger, loved her as much as he could love anyone or anything. He knew it. He was almost eighteen years her senior and not a very handsome man, but he was intelligent, experienced and would do his best by her . . . if only she would give him the opportunity.

In this timeline, Severus had money. He had wisely invested his pay, been frugal, nearly miserly. He saved his Galleons from habit, because he had grown up so poor. And he had developed a few original Potions, for which he collected residuals monthly. He was just this side of wealthy. He could provide for Hermione while she chased her dreams.

If only . . . if only she would accept him. The signs she might were there, but her attraction could be nothing more than a schoolgirl crush, a crush that would crumble if he tried to make it something more.

Hell, he might even repulse her.

The Potions master wiped at his face with his hand in reaction to that unpleasant thought, then looked up to see Hermione standing before his desk, holding out her summary. He took it from her gently and looked at it, flipping it over. Sure enough, she had written on the back. He looked up at her with a smirk.

"It seems for all your brilliance, Miss Granger, you still haven't mastered measurements. This is far more than a foot of parchment," he said to her as Neville walked up behind her with his own offering.

"I couldn't fit it all on one side, professor, well . . . not adequately . . . there were a lot of nuances I wanted to address . . ." Hermione explained.

Snape waved his hand at her.

"Just go, Miss Granger," he said, "I'm used to this by now. I will see you tonight in detention."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said as she walked past Neville, who looked after her.

She had said nothing about having detention with professor Snape.

"Mr. Longbottom, are you going to stand there gawking after your friend, or are you going to hand in your parchment?" Snape snapped at him, making the Gryffindor jump. "I don't have all day."

"Oh, oh . . . here you go sir," Neville said sheepishly as Snape snatched the parchment out of his hand, scowling at him. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the parchment.

"You seem to be an eighth of an inch short, Mr. Longbottom. Five points from Gryffindor," the wizard said, his eyes glinting.

Gryffindor was getting a little too close in house points.

"But . . . it won't affect your mark," Snape added, cutting him some slack . . . as usual.

"Thank you, sir," Neville said, hurrying away, rolling his eyes at Hermione as he passed on his way to his seat. Hermione shook her head slightly.

An eighth of an inch? Who was professor Snape kidding? He just wanted to take points from Gryffindor.

Ah well. He'd done it for this long, there was no reason to think he'd change now.

* * *

The hands on the clock seemed to be moving three times faster than normal. Before she knew it, it was time to go to the dungeons. Time to find out the truth. Hermione grabbed the book Snape loaned her, pulled on her robes over her jeans and t-shirt, then made her way out of Gryffindor tower.

The moment of truth had arrived.

* * *

A/N: Luna is going to play an important role in this story. Got to get Neville's love interest in there somehow. Lol. This was another history chapter. A reader pointed out to me that Luna was a year below Hermione, and I had to devise a way to put them in the same year. It was fun to work out. I love Luna, she reminds me of a Flower Child. Lolol. Then there was a little Snape love going on, that's always nice. Now, the moment of clarity arrives. Thanks for reading.


	14. The Story

**Chapter 14 The Story**

"Welcome to detention, Miss Granger," Snape said, rising from his chair when Hermione entered his classroom.

"Hello, professor Snape," Hermione replied, hoping her voice didn't betray the sense of trepidation she felt as she walked into the wizard's presence. She flinched slightly when he pulled out his wand and used it to close and ward the door behind her, adding a Silencing spell. He noticed her jumpiness.

"Miss Granger, please, don't be nervous," he said to her kindly. "You are safe here. You will always be safe with me. Please take your seat."

Hermione walked up to the first row of desks and took her usual seat. Snape sat down once she did. He studied the witch. She looked a bit like a frightened rabbit. He needed to make her feel comfortable. He knew just how to do that.

A bit of debate.

"So, did you find the book enlightening?" he asked the nervous witch.

"Yes," Hermione said shortly.

Snape nodded.

"Why is it, Miss Granger, if you believe you actually went back in time, that you aren't caught in a time loop? Logic dictates that in order to go back in time, you have to have a point of origin. If you don't, there's no way you could go back in the first place, nor could you advance into the future because you would be constantly returning to the past when you reached the point of origin. Paradox."

Hermione frowned slightly. Was professor Snape trying to convince her that she didn't go back in time? But she knew she did. The Time Turner, the dreams, the physical proof she found that she could only know about because she had either been to or heard about those areas before all pointed to time travel.

"That might be true if you are talking about linear time, or time that moves only from point A to point B, professor. But time also occupies space. Anything that occupies space can shift out of sync once the stream is disturbed," she said a bit argumentively. "If a new stream is created, it can flow unimpeded by the old stream. What originally was, is no longer when time becomes linear again. Just imagine time as a river that branches . . ."

Snape smirked inwardly as he listened to Hermione use the river branch analogy to explain why there was no time loop, the witch relaxing as she warmed to her topic. He could tell she was making a firm case in order to stop him from even suggesting she hadn't gone back to the past. She was in her element now. She talked for about fifteen minutes, ending with, "So you see, professor, that's why there's no time loop."

"I agree, Miss Granger. My thoughts exactly," he responded, and she rewarded him with a smile.

"So I did go back in time?" she asked him.

Snape looked at her consideringly, then stood up and walked from around his desk, standing in front of it.

"Let me tell you a story, Miss Granger. I'll keep it short and to the point. There was a young wizard who came up in less than savory conditions. He was odd, poor and had a less than stellar home life. Then he received a Hogwarts letter and believed his entire world would change. That he could escape his dismal existence and become someone of worth, someone who would be respected, and maybe even revered."

"That was you, wasn't it, professor?" Hermione asked him, and Snape nodded slightly.

"But he found that conditions weren't much better for him, due to the fact he was targeted by his peers. Instead of becoming expansive, he closed in upon himself, studying fervently, distancing himself from almost all others . . .

Snape paused slightly as he remembered Lily, then cleared his throat and continued.

"He had a great passion for books and collected them obsessively. He also had a way with spells, developing his own for protection from those who constantly harassed him. But most of all, he had a way with potions and brews, and early on discovered a method known only to himself, how to combine usually volatile ingredients in a way that they wouldn't explode, utilizing magic and skill. This ability allowed him to concoct potions that no one else could without killing themselves. This information got back to a very influential wizard with dreams of making the Wizarding World a better place, and he took this talented young wizard under his wing, promising him power and respect in exchange for his developing a very special brew. A brew that would give him great power. The young wizard worked on such an elixir and had some small successes. But the use of the elixir was quite painful. Still, this influential wizard suffered through the agony, his power becoming greater each time, as did his lust for more power. He promised the young wizard he would remove his enemies permanently if he could make the potion stronger, and brought him a new ingredient. Venom from his familiar to utilize. The bond between this wizard and his familiar would give even greater power and the young wizard found the right medium and created a potion so potent, it would increase a wizard's power twenty-fold. But the price, the price would be his humanity."

"Voldemort," Hermione breathed, and again, Snape nodded.

"During this time, the young wizard lost both his parents and felt the only person in the world who cared about his welfare and his future was this influential wizard. He was working hard toward his goal. He wanted his enemies dead, and he wanted a world that wouldn't look down on him. He was promised this and wanted it as much as his next breath," Snape said, his eyes unfocused as he remembered how strong the lust for power was.

Suddenly, his black eyes shifted to Hermione intensely.

"The night before the young wizard was to deliver this powerful elixir, he received a visitation from a witch, clad only in her bra and knickers," he said softly.

Hermione reddened. Why had she come to him that way?

"I believe she came that way to keep the young wizard from instantly killing her when he found out she knew what he was up to. It worked. He stopped long enough to listen to her and take what she offered. A Pensieve from the future. His future," Snape said in a haunted voice. "That Pensieve contained atrocities and tortures so horrible, so hideous, it was next to impossible to believe. It showed the young wizard what his life would become if he followed that path. It also showed what would be lost . . ."

Snape fell silent for a moment as he remembered himself in Dumbledore's office, falling apart at the death of Lily Evans, who had been murdered by Voldemort. Although they no longer spoke, he still harbored feelings for her, and blamed himself for her death. He had been waiting to apply for the position of Potions master at Hogwarts, when he overheard Albus' interview with Sybil Trelawney, who went into a trance and spoke a prophecy. He only heard part of it, because he was removed from the area by the owner of the establishment where interviews were being held. It was that information that eventually led Voldemort to kill the Potters and leave Harry Potter an orphan and target.

"Go on, professor," Hermione said softly.

"After viewing that Pensieve, the young wizard knew he had but one choice . . . to stop the influential wizard's rise to power. So, he poisoned him."

Snape looked at Hermione soberly.

"And that changed everything, Hermione Granger. Everything."

Hermione stared up at the wizard as he slowly approached the desk, placed two hands on it and leaned down, so his pale face was inches from her own. Hermione met those deep, dark eyes and felt as if she were about to be swallowed down into their depths.

"It was a brave thing you did, Miss Granger. So many things could have gone wrong in taking a journey so far back in time. You could have been lost to time, or gone back too far. The window for success was incredibly, incredibly small, but somehow . . . you managed to make it back to me, and save the wizarding world as we know it. There are many alive today that wouldn't be without your intervention. There are others whose lives would have been very different because of loss. Yes, I stopped Voldemort . . . but . . . Hermione . . . you stopped me."

The professor's voice was so soft, silken and compelling, and his use of her given name washed over her like a caress. Hermione helplessly closed her eyes, her mouth pursing slightly as if waiting for a kiss.

Snape looked at her, longing to touch his lips to hers . . . it would be the perfect moment to do so, to find out if what she felt was more than a fleeting attraction . . .

But he drew back.

He had to.

Hermione felt him withdraw and opened her eyes. They were wet and glistening.

"So, you murdered Tom Riddle," she stated softly.

Snape shook his head.

"No. I exterminated him. He was vermin of the worse sort. He would have overrun our world as surely as rats overran Hamlin town. It was a service, not a crime," the wizard said. "So now, you know the story, Miss Granger. You did indeed change time, and those dreams you are having are the memories of what life was like before. I don't believe they will become overwhelming however. You will remember them just the way you remember dreams. You still have this reality."

Hermione blinked at him, steeled herself and said, "You've told me the overall story, professor, but not . . . the details. I need to know the details. I haven't seen them clearly in my dreams and I need to know what happened between us."

Snape stood there a moment, then said, "Ask me what you need to know."

Hermione colored crimson, and Snape realized that she knew they had engaged sexually, just not the conditions.

"Didyousleepwithme?" Hermione blurted out.

Snape raised both eyebrows at the unintelligible stream of language she spouted at him.

"Ask me again, Miss Granger, slower this time," he told the red-faced witch.

"Did . . . you . . . sleep . . . with . . . me?" she asked him.

"We shared a bed, Miss Granger, but we did not sleep," he replied, then waited for the inevitable next question.

"Did we have sex?"

"Yes. Yes we did."

"Did you . . . did you force me?"

"No. I asked you. You agreed."

Hermione let out a little sigh of relief. It would have been horrible if professor Snape had raped her. She looked up at him curiously.

"Did I . . . did I like it?" she asked him softly.

Snape gave her a soft, fleeting smile at her question.

"Yes. Yes you did. You liked it very much," he said softly, "as did I. I told you that being with you was worth a world or two."

Hermione flushed, and looked down at the desk in front of her, then said, "The only physical proof I have that I actually traveled to the past, is that . . .is that . . ."

She hesitated.

"Tell me," Snape urged.

"Is that my hymen is broken. It happened right after you returned me to my room. I was bleeding and didn't know what happened. I went to Madam Pomfrey and she was sure I had sex with someone, when I didn't . . . but, I guess I did."

Snape just stared at her for several minutes, unable to find the words to fit this situation. She had been deflowered by him in the past . . . but he had no idea that his taking her virginity would be realized in the present.

Good gods, he was still her first in this timeline.

Paradox was a bitch.

"Professor Snape," Hermione called softly.

He had been staring at her, but not really seeing her. He focused.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he responded.

"What . . . what does this make us?" she asked him, butterflies battering the walls of her belly and somewhat lower.

"Heroes," he replied, "it makes us heroes, Miss Granger. Unsung and unknown."

Hermione took this in. That wasn't the answer she wanted when she asked him that. They had been intimate. It might have happened almost twenty years ago, but they still had sex. He still was the first lover she ever had, and what was sad about it, was she didn't even remember what it had been like.

"I mean . . . I mean the other thing. Us sleeping together. What does that make us?" she pressed him.

Snape sighed. He couldn't, wouldn't say it made them nothing. To do so would hurt her and more than likely ruin any future chance with the witch after graduation.

"It makes us two people . . . with a history," he said softly, hoping this would satisfy the witch.

Hermione stared at him, then asked, "Professor, you must have recognized me the moment you heard my name at the Sorting ceremony. How did you react?"

Snape relaxed a little. Now they were moving to a bit safer ground.

"I was rather shocked. I had relegated you to the position of some kind of sentient dream, or prophetic vision. For a short while, I felt guilty about disposing of Tom Riddle, but once his body was found, I read about all the atrocities he had committed and knew I had indeed done the right thing. When you appeared, I realized that you had indeed returned to the past to help me and save the world from Tom Riddle."

"So that's why you haven't given me as hard a time as everyone else," she said to him.

"I'm a Slytherin. I practice nepotism all the time," he responded wryly. "If I favor students simply because they are in my house, how much more am I going to favor the young woman that changed the dark path of my life? But I assure you, I've never given you anything more than you deserved. I haven't padded your marks . . ."

"I'll say," Hermione snorted, "you don't give me the marks I deserve, if you ask me."

Snape chuckled.

"There's a reason for it, believe me. Miss Granger. I'll explain it to you after graduation," he promised. "I hope you are keeping up with your studies. You have to do well on your exams for me to extend the apprenticeship. If those dreams are interfering with your sleep, you need to take the draught Poppy prescribed for you."

Hermione didn't answer, because she didn't want to lie to him. Actually, she'd been so caught up in dream chasing and chamber finding, she barely opened a book at all. Neville was better off. He studied while she was off doing other things and not dragging him around the castle by the wrist.

"You are keeping up with your studies, aren't you?" Snape asked her suspiciously when she didn't answer.

Hermione knew she had to say something or else he might wonder what else she was up to.

"Professor, have you ever known me not to study? Especially when tests were approaching?" she asked him, question for question.

"No, I haven't. But this situation is not common. It might affect your study habits, be distracting."

Distracting? He didn't know the half of it.

"I'll be fine, professor," she said to him, hoping that would be enough.

It was.

Silence ensued for several moments, then Snape said, "You may go if you like, Miss Granger. We are finished here."

Hermione looked at him. She really didn't want to go, there was so much more she wanted to know about their night together, but she was embarrassed to ask him for intimate details, although she had every right to ask.

Snape divined something was wrong.

"What is it, Miss Granger? You look . . . troubled," he said to her, concern in his eyes.

Hermione's heart began to pound a bit as she summoned up the courage to tell him what was bothering her.

"Professor, a witch's first time is supposed to be something . . . something meaningful, special. Something she'll always remember," she said softly, looking down at her hands, unable to look him in the eye. "But I don't remember any of it . . . nothing of what happened. What you said to me . . . what I said to you, what we . . . what we did . . . or how we did it. It's like there's a big hole inside me."

Snape nodded.

"I understand completely Miss Granger, but I don't think it is appropriate for me to give you blow by blow intimate details considering I am your teacher and you are my student. It stretches the limits of propriety," he said softly as Hermione's face fell.

She looked so sad.

"Wait here," he told the witch, and disappeared into his lab for about five minutes.

He returned with a small Pensieve, sealed. He offered it to the witch.

"Take this. It is my memory of that night. But I warn you, Miss Granger, it is not the romantic coupling that young witches dream of. I was young, eager and impatient. I imagine I reacted to you much like Mr. Potter did when you appeared in his room dressed as you were. I hauled you into my bed as well, although I gave you a choice whether or not to engage me."

Actually, he had coerced her, or seduced her with a bit of pressure. But it was still consensual.

Hermione felt a pulse in her belly as she accepted the bowl from the wizard. There was something about the way he was looking at her, as if there was more he wanted to say, but couldn't say.

Wow. He "hauled" her into his bed? She had to view this Pensieve.

"The memories in the Pensieve will dissolve after one viewing, Miss Granger. You will have to view it in entirety at one sitting. Once you leave it, it will not function again," he said softly, his dark eyes drifting over her.

Retrieving those memories had a stirring effect on the wizard. He knew her body, had handled it, taken it . . . possessed it. And she looked now just as she looked then.

She had to leave.

"Please go now, Miss Granger," he said to the witch thickly, swallowing.

Hermione watched his Adam's apple bob, her eyes narrowing just a bit. Was the professor nervous? Why would he be nervous? Was he feeling something he didn't want to feel? Hermione stood up, and was tempted to approach the wizard, just to see what he would do, but she decided against it.

"All right, professor. Thank you," she said to him formally, then tried to exit the classroom, but the door wouldn't open. He had warded it.

Hermione looked back at him.

"I can't get out, professor," she said, "the door is still warded."

She turned around and started walking back toward him, but Snape whipped out his wand and quickly removed the ward.

"I'm sorry about that, Miss Granger. You're free to go now," he said, running his finger around the collar of his robes as if the temperature in the classroom had risen several degrees.

Hermione smirked at him before turning and leaving without a word. She might not be completely savvy about relationships, but she knew the signs of a smitten wizard when she saw one. Snape could thank Neville for that.

The Potions master could have sworn he heard her chuckle as she exited the room.

* * *

Hermione lay in her bed, one hand pressed to her belly, staring up at the ceiling, the now empty Pensieve resting on the nightstand by her bed.

Hermione was feeling hot all over. Snape was right, it hadn't been exactly romantic with him stripping down and expressing a bit of disgust that she was still a virgin. But once they talked a little, and he told her about how witches closed their eyes with him, and she told him how she felt about his older self, things went relatively well. He wasn't horrible to her, and was soothing in his way. He talked to her and praised her, and by the way she reacted to him after the initial pain, she could tell she did indeed like her first time. The look on her face was indescribable and now she felt an ache deep down inside her.

She wanted to know what it felt like for her to look and sound the way she did. What it felt like to have him on top of her, moving inside her body. Hermione shuddered deliciously.

She was never going to look at professor Snape the same way again. He might have been young when they shagged, but it was still him. He was still her first lover.

And by the way he rushed her out of his classroom, Hermione suspected he would like to be her lover again. He probably didn't say anything because he was so much older than she was now, and because was still her teacher. But she didn't think him too old. Her dad had twenty years on her mother and they were fine together. Snape had less than that on her.

And he wouldn't be her teacher forever. He only had a few months left.

Maybe after she opened the chamber, she could explore her suspicions about professor Snape a little more. Her little crush had left the realm of schoolgirl fantasy and turned into the definite interest of a young woman now.

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed for a little bit, then engaged in a small masturbation session to ease that compelling urge between her legs.

It wasn't very satisfying, but helped a bit.

Fretfully she fell asleep, dreaming of Snape as he was now, and monsters waiting in the dark.

* * *

A/N: Now, that wasn't too bad was it? Snape has control, I give him that, although he lost his cool a bit at the end. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	15. Ah, the Way

**Chapter 15 Ah, the Way**

Neville sat next to Hermione in the library, several books spread out in front of them. The Gryffindor kept cutting his eyes toward her. Hermione had told him what professor Snape said happened, leaving out the part about sleeping with him, of course. Neville really didn't need to know or even imagine that part. She was sure he'd be squicked beyond recovery.

But Hermione was a hero, a real hero and no one but him and Snape knew it. Snape was a hero too. If not for the both of them, his parents would be in St. Mungo's, so damaged that they could never recover, and he would have been stuck with being raised by his Gran, who would have turned him into a wimp.

And Harry Potter, that git had the most to be thankful for. If not for Hermione, he would have lost his entire family and been an orphan, not to mention killed by Voldemort. The Slytherin should fall down on his knees and kiss the hem of her robes, if not her ass. But Neville couldn't tell him this. There was no way Harry or anyone would believe him . . . besides, if someone did believe him, it would turn both Snape's and Hermione's lives upside down. It was better to leave it as it was. At least that part of it.

There was another aspect of the situation that Neville just couldn't leave alone, and so he had three detentions coming up next for punching a surprised Harry in the face just before breakfast and starting a brawl.

"What the fuck was that for?" Harry gasped as they struggled, students egging them on.

"You bloody know what it's for, Potter!" Neville hissed, trying to choke the life out of the Slytherin. Harry elbowed him in the ribs as hard as he could, knocking the wind out of him, and breaking free before they clashed together again, fists flying and robes tangling.

"Get him, Harry! Kick his ass!" Draco yelled, making boxing motions.

He would have jumped in, but a number of steely eyed Gryffindors were just waiting for that to happen and Goyle and Crabbe hadn't yet made it down to breakfast. So Draco was outnumbered. Gryffindors weren't that fair either . . . not when it came to an opportunity to wreak some revenge on the Pureblood. They would have covered him like a living tide.

Filch and Flitwick broke Harry and Neville up, both young wizards disheveled and glaring at each other, Harry wiping blood from his nose and fixing his glasses. As he looked at Neville's face, he did know why he punched him.

Because of Hermione.

Neville must have known what happened in his room that evening and was warned not to say anything. Bloody Granger should have told him not to do anything either. Who made him her watchdog anyway? Everyone seemed to want to protect her.

Neville acted quickly, leaving Gryffindor tower before Hermione did, hoping to run into Harry. It was Saturday morning and Hermione usually took her time getting down to the Great Hall.

His hope had been realized. He spent the rest of breakfast eating and letting Hermione's stream of reprimands flow in one ear and out the other. As far as Neville was concerned, Harry Potter deserved more than grounds keeping duties and he wasn't the least bit sorry he'd bent his nose back for him, and he told Hermione so.

"Oh Neville, I told you not to do anything," Hermione said to him as they exited the Great Hall, heading for the library.

"And I heard you," Neville growled, still angry. He would have liked to crunch Potter's nose just one more time.

"But you didn't listen to me," Hermione said, shaking her head. But in her heart she was glad Neville gave Harry what for. He was an idiot. And Neville was so sweet and protective.

Neville wouldn't talk about it any more. What was done, was done and it was worth serving three detentions with Hagrid. Harry was just lucky his detentions were over, or he'd get a little more exercise.

Now they were in the library, looking up information about basilisks. How to kill them to be precise. But there was a lot of conflicting information. The only thing that seemed consistent was that it could kill with a glance.

Neville looked at the books, his brow furrowed.

"How in the world can a basilisk be hatched from a rooster's egg? Roosters don't lay eggs. It's physically impossible. They don't have the right plumbing for that. Even if they could, passing the egg would probably kill them," Neville said, his thighs reflexively clamping together as he though about a large egg trying to pass through his penis.

Arrrrgh.

Hermione smiled at his pained face and pointed to another book.

"Neville, it says here that a basilisk is hatched by a rooster sitting on a serpent's egg. That's far more likely how they are created," she told him.

Neville still couldn't understand why they were so bloody dangerous then. Hermione told him it was just . . . magic and left it at that.

Neville brightened considerably when he read that basilisks were between six and twelve inches long, but Hermione poured ice water on that disputable fact when she recounted how Harry killed the creature.

"He drove Godric Gryffindor's sword through the roof of the basilisk's mouth," the witch told the wide-eyed wizard, "and a tooth nicked him. Luckily Fawkes came and saved him with his tears. They have healing properties, you know. Anyway, there's no way he could have driven a sword through the mouth of a six inch basilisk."

"Maybe he was exaggerating," Neville offered hopefully. "He's a bloody braggart now. Wouldn't put it past him."

Hermione scowled at Neville.

"He wasn't like that in the other timeline, Neville. He was nice. Honest, well most of the time. Sometimes he had to hide the truth, but I doubt he did this time," she replied, "and he wasn't exaggerating. Myrtle said she saw 'big' yellow eyes. A little basilisk's eyes wouldn't have been big."

Neville looked back down at the book.

"It says here a weasel can kill a basilisk with its bite. Maybe we should take Ron with us," Neville said with a grin.

Hermione laughed.

"Neville, he's a Weasley, not a weasel. He'd be worse than useless, although I have to admit, I'd love to see the look on his face at the idea of facing a basilisk. No one can mug like Ron Weasley," Hermione chuckled.

Ronald Weasley did seem to have an astounding amount of disturbing facial expressions, which he used frequently. No one could look as disgusted as he could when he saw or heard something unsavory.

"Bloody hell," he'd breathe, his face contorting according to the level of disgust he needed to portray.

Hermione imagined his face would get permanently stuck in a gruesome position if he knew what had occurred between her and professor Snape. Ron couldn't stand him, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. But Ron wanted to be an Auror and needed to get at least an Acceptable in potions in his final year.

It was an uphill battle, with Snape pushing boulders down the slope.

But more than likely Snape would pass him, rather than have him come back to Hogwarts for a remedial course, thus starting the whole nauseating cycle again. Ron was just going to have to give it his all.

That's all Snape wanted anyway.

Suddenly, Neville went ashen.

"Neville? What's wrong?" Hermione said, as he stared. She looked in the direction he was looking and saw Luna approaching, her arms overflowing with books. She stopped, resting them on the end of their table for a moment.

"Hello Hermione. Hi Neville," she said dreamily, her blue eyes drifting over the both of them, then the books they were reading. Hermione sort of spread her arms a bit, hoping to cover most of the text.

"Hello Luna," Hermione said in a voice that clearly implied she wished Luna would go away. Neville made a choked noise, still staring at the witch.

"I'm just doing a bit of light reading. I like to come to the library on the weekends because so few students are here," Luna said, "I can pick out what books I want without bumping into too many people. Well, I'm off. Bye Hermione. Bye Neville."

She picked up the huge pile of books and made her way over to Madam Pince's counter, the librarian scowling as she approached with such an unconscionable amount of checkouts.

Neville made another noise, staring after Luna longingly.

Hermione punched him in the shoulder, thus loosening his tongue which seemed to have attached itself to the roof of his mouth. He gasped, holding his slightly injured arm.

"Neville, you have to do more than mumble when you see Luna. She's not going to bite you," Hermione said to him, going back to her books.

Neville couldn't help thinking he wouldn't mind in the least if Luna bit him.

A bit more browsing told them the following: A basilisk could be killed by a rooster crowing and a mirror. If it saw its own reflection, apparently it became so frightened, it keeled over from horror.

Hermione found this reason rather weak, but it was possible it could petrify itself. After all, anyone who saw its reflection in the other timeline was petrified.

There were also entries that said a basilisk could burn anything it approached and its breath could wilt vegetation and shatter stone.

Hermione shook her head.

"In the alternate timeline Harry was very close to the basilisk. He wasn't set on fire, and he didn't die from its breath, so I don't think this is true," the witch said, then closed the book. "I think we have enough to form a good battle plan."

"But we still haven't figured out how we're going to get the chamber open, Hermione," Neville said as Hermione began to gather the books together. Suddenly she stopped, eyeing a book resting on the end of the table.

"I didn't select this book," she said, picking up the tome. It was very old, the pages yellowed and brittle. Hermione looked at the title, her eyes widening.

"I didn't know anything about this," she said, sitting back down and opening it up.

"What is it?" Neville asked her, craning his neck to see.

"It's a book on sound magic," the witch replied, carefully turning the yellowed pages. There was a rather tattered silk bookmark marking a page. Hermione skimmed over it, becoming excited.

"What? What?" Neville asked her as she practically jumped up and down in her seat.

"Look, an entire section on 'trapping sound,'" she breathed.

Madam Pince just finished stamping all the books Luna had piled on the counter, when the Head Girl said dreamily, "You know, Madam Pince . . . I think I'll just read these later," and wandered out.

The librarian looked after her in exasperation, then at all the books piled on the counter and sighed. This wasn't the first time Luna changed her mind about checking books out. She should have made her take an oath she'd take them this time.

As Luna ambled away, she wore a tiny hint of a smile.

* * *

"Wwwwwho . . . wwwwho iiiis it?" Professor Quirrel stammered in answer to a knock on his office door. He was marking papers. He liked to get it done early on the weekends. He was stuttering because the knock startled him.

"It's Hermione Granger, professor Quirrel. I know I don't have an appointment, but I wondered if I could have five minutes of your time," the witch said from the other side of the door.

Neville was with her of course.

"Oh, Mmmmiss Granger. Come in," Quirrel said.

Professor Quirrel liked Hermione. She got very high marks in his class. Hermione entered, followed closely by Neville.

"Ah, and Mr. Longbbbbottom. Come in, the bbbboth of you. How can I hhhelp you?" he asked pleasantly.

His office smelled like garlic.

"Um, I'd like to ask a favor of you, sir. I'm doing a report on speaking Parseltongue and I was wondering if you would give me a few samples of words," she said to him.

"Samples? You mean pronounce the words for you? I can certainly do that," the wizard said, "just give me a list of the words you'd like me to say."

Hermione quickly produced a parchment, handing it to the teacher, who studied it.

"Hm, very simple words. Open. Stop. Go back. Stay. All commands," he said, looking up at the pair curiously.

"Ah yes. I chose words I thought a Parseltongue would use to command a serpent," Hermione said. "I believe that's what the language is used for the most, unless you have conversations."

Quirrel shuddered.

"The only thing I've ever told a serpent was to go far away," the wizard said, then cleared his throat. "All right, here's the first word . . ."

"Wait," Hermione said, producing a rather large blue glass bottle, pulling out the stopper, taking out her wand and tapping the neck of it as she murmured a charm. Then she offered the bottle to Quirrel.

"Could you speak them into this?" she asked him, her eyes shining as he took the bottle from her.

"Ccccertainly," he replied.

Neville hoped stuttering didn't affect Parseltongue.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	16. A Lot of Thinking Going On

**Chapter 16 A Lot of Thinking Going On**

After collecting the Parseltongue words from professor Quirrel and returning to Hogwarts tower, Neville excused himself for several minutes, telling Hermione he had something to show her.

The Common Room was empty, the students out and about the castle or off-grounds. The weekends were always like this. Hermione took a seat at one of the study tables and waited for Neville impatiently. They had planning to do.

Neville reappeared, a parchment in his hand and he walked up to Hermione determinedly, slamming the parchment down on the table in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked him.

"Just read it," Neville said evenly, his brows furrowed.

Hermione began reading and her eyebrows rose up in surprise. She looked up at Neville sharply.

"Neville, you have to be kidding me," she declared as Neville folded his arms.

"I'm not. I'm not doing another thing until you follow that for the next week," he said firmly.

Hermione blinked up at him.

"But, but Neville, this doesn't give me any time to focus on developing . . ." she complained.

"I don't care. You've been neglecting your studies, Hermione, and obviously have gone a bit mad over all of this. You're losing track of your priorities. So, you're going to follow that schedule and get in a week of study or I'm backing out. You've worked too hard not to get your proper marks," Neville said.

Actually, Neville would never back out because he knew Hermione was hard-headed enough to go for the basilisk without him. But he hoped his threat would work.

"That's just bloody blackmail!" Hermione hissed at him.

Neville shrugged.

"Call it what you want, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn't do what was best for you?" he asked the witch.

"That's not a friend, that's a father," she spat back.

Neville remained unmoved.

"Promise me you'll follow the schedule, Hermione," he said, his eyes narrowed.

Hermione pouted.

"Not going to work. This is too important. Now, promise me," Neville demanded.

Hermione looked back down at the parchment.

"Maybe . . . maybe we could make a small time adjustment here . . . and here," she suggested, trying to free up some time.

Neville had spent six years following Hermione's grueling study schedules, and he learned the fine art of sucking up every bit of spare time from the best. His schedule was iron tight, interspersed between homework, reading, studying and reviewing, by subject of course. There were a number of fifteen minute breaks, but not much could be done in fifteen minutes other than to relax a bit.

"No way. You have bugbears when I try to get you to adjust your schedules. Now, it's my turn. So are you going to promise me or not, Hermione?" Neville asked her.

Hermione scowled.

"Oh, all right," she said, her eyes shifting sneakily.

Neville held out his hand.

"What now?" Hermione asked him, frowning.

"Give me the bottle, Hermione. If I have it, you won't be tempted to go it alone. Quirrel won't fill another one without getting suspicious," the wizard said, flexing his fingers a little.

"What? No! I wouldn't do that, Neville . . . how could you even think . . ."

"I can think it, because I know you, Hermione. Now, hand over the bottle or I'm going to take it from you, and if we struggle . . . it can break," he told her.

Hermione idly thought about when she petrified Neville in his first year back in the alternate timeline. Right now, the thought was quite appealing. She wondered if she could draw her wand fast enough to . . .

"You'd better not hex me, Hermione," Neville growled at her.

"What are you? A mind reader?" Hermione asked him bad-naturedly as she reached into her pocket and ungraciously handed him the blue bottle.

Neville smiled at her.

"No, it's just that desperate people do desperate things," he replied. "I'm going to put this away, then we can get started. No more chamber talk for the next week."

Hermione watched with a frown as he walked up the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory rooms, then sighed as he disappeared around the corner.

Neville was right of course. She was neglecting her studies, but everything was so exciting, new. Her life had taken on an excitement and depth she'd never known before. In the other timeline she was brave, courageous . . . a hero. In this one, she was just plain, bookish Hermione Granger. She was noticed a bit because she was so smart, but nothing like in the other timeline. But that wasn't what made her so gung-ho. It was the allure of discovery, of finding something that no one else could find. To be the first to crack the Chamber of Secrets.

The idea was fascinating, and Hermione wanted to see it through badly.

"Just one adventure," she sighed to herself as Neville came back down the stairs, his backpack of books slung over his shoulders. He sat down at the table next to her, pulling out books and stacking them up. He looked at her.

"Why are you still sitting here?" he asked her, tapping the schedule pointedly, "you have Arithmancy reading to do."

Grumbling, Hermione stalked up the stairs to get her own books.

* * *

Early Sunday morning, Hagrid trundled out of his hut with a pail of feed for the chickens he kept in a wire coop. They weren't for eating though, but pets, although sometimes he would collect the eggs and share them with the kitchens.

It was a rare bright morning, the sun low above the horizon.

A rooster crowed several times, heralding the new day, and the hens lined up against the wire fence like soldiers, clucking excitedly as Hagrid approached.

"Good morn'in' ladies," the half-giant said, opening the gate as the birds fluttered excitedly around him, weaving in and out and craning their necks, their bright eyes blinking rapidly as they very vocally urged him to hurry up. The clucking was nearly deafening.

"All right! All right! "Ere's yer grub, girls."

Hagrid threw a huge handful of corn and feed to the ground, the hens busily pecking away, and pecking each other as they greedily pecked it up.

Hagrid threw down another two handfuls, then gave them fresh water and checked the henhouse. Yes, it would need new straw soon. He exited the coop, just as another cock crow rose and fell.

"I'm comin'," Hagrid called, walking a distance away to another smaller coop. He walked around it, and stopped in surprise. Sitting on the ground just outside the coop with her legs crossed was Luna Lovegood. She was watching the lone rooster inside with rapt interest.

Hagrid knew Luna. She often came to him to ask about rare creatures. Hagrid knew quite a bit about magical beasts, both real and imagined. He never told Luna anything didn't exist, because . . . it was entirely possible they did. Magical creatures could hide in magical ways after all.

"Hey, watcha' doin' out 'ere so early, Luna?" the half-giant said, walking up and looking down on the Ravenclaw.

"Oh, hi Hagrid. I just thought I'd come out here," she said softly, then looked back into the coop where the solitary rooster strutted back and forth, cocking his head at Hagrid and the bucket of feed. "It's a lovely morning, isn't it?"

Hagrid blinked up at the bright sky and had to admit it was. Normally it was a bit overcast. He breathed deeply, smelling the sweet air.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed.

"Why is this rooster all by himself?" Luna asked Hagrid.

"Who, Hercules? "Cause 'e don' know 'ow ter mind his manners, tha's why," Hagrid said. "Can't put 'im wit tha others. Like's ter fight 'e does. E's a Bantam Game Cock and'll put tha spurs ter almost anything tha' moves. Right brave."

Hercules let out another rousing crow.

"He's still crowing," Luna observed, "why is that? The sun's high now."

"Get back, yer blasted feathered devil!" Hagrid said as he opened the gate and Hercules rushed him, "I'm comin' ter feed yeh."

Hercules hopped all over Hagrid's coat, scratching and tearing at it with his spurs as Luna watched calmly. Even when Hagrid threw down the feed, the rooster kept attacking him.

Hagrid made it out, closing the gate as Hercules strutted about proudly, making a low, crooning noise. Once again he'd driven the giant from his territory. He was the baddest cock going. Finally, he started eating. He was quite picky, turning the feed over with his beak and eyeing each piece of corn with the eye of a connoisseur before he consumed it.

Hagrid looked in at him, shaking his head, then looked at Luna. He'd heard her question.

"Game cocks crow when they feels like it," he told her. "It don' matter if tha sun's up or not."

Luna studied the bird.

"Is there any way to make them crow?" she asked him.

Hagrid shook his head.

"Nope. Some people try, but roosters don' crow unless tha wants ter," he replied, then looked at Luna curiously.

"Why are yer so interested in Hercules, anyway? He's not rare at all," the wizard said to the witch.

Luna shrugged.

"I don't know. I just got it in my head to come out and look at him. That's all right, isn't it?"

Hagrid gave her a smile. Luna Lovegood was an odd one. Even now she wore several bright pink sleeping masks around her neck. There was a lot of mesh on the front of them rather than solid fabric, so they must let in light. Why would anyone wear something like that to bed? Or wear something like that period? But this was Luna. Anything was possible with the witch.

"Yeah, tha's fine, Luna. I've got ter get ter my chores. Yeh kin sit 'ere long as yer likes," Hagrid said to the witch kindly. "Jes' don' get too close to that gate. Tha' rooster kin be pure evil."

"I won't. Bye, Hagrid," Luna said softly, her blue eyes resting on the rooster as he ate.

"See yeh later," Hagrid replied, heading back for the hut. He'd water the bird later.

Feeding him was rough enough.

Luna continued to watch the rooster for a while, then lifted one of the pink masks and covered her eyes with it, still staring at the bird intently.

* * *

Hagrid did have chores to do, but he had something else to do as well. He couldn't get Hermione's and Neville's visit out of his mind, so he decided to do something about it, something he had avoided doing for decades.

It was Sunday morning, and most of the students slept in late on Sundays. He always attracted attention when inside the castle, not much but he was noticed. He doubted anyone would be interested in where he was going or what he was doing, but the wizard still preferred to do it while not too many people were about.

He washed his face and slicked down his hair with axle grease, looking at himself in the mirror before drawing in a strengthening breath.

This wasn't going to be easy.

It had been a long, long time.

* * *

Moaning Myrtle was floating above the toilet in her stall, mourning her death as usual and cursing Olive Hornsby with numerous dying breaths, when she heard her name called. By a male voice.

She stuck her pearly head through the door and looked out. She stared, then drifted out of the stall, her eyes wide as she looked at the wizard who stood contritely before her.

"Hagrid? Hagrid, is that you?" Myrtle asked, her voice breezy as she looked at the huge half-giant in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's me, Myrtle. Thought it were high time I visited you, bein' friends an' all," the giant replied, his eyes wet as he looked at her ghostly form. Myrtle looked just as she did when they were classmates.

Myrtle stared at him.

"You never came. I died and I know you heard about me being here, Hagrid . . . but you never came! How can you say you were my friend? I thought at least you'd mourn me," the ghost said accusingly, her face contorting.

"The' threw me out, Myrtle. Said Aragog killed yeh," Hagrid explained, "broke my wand and everythin'. I weren't here ter come visit yeh. I wuz gone a long time."

"But you've been here a long time too, Hagrid. You could have come to say hello to poor Myrtle, poor dead Myrtle," the ghost wailed.

Tears spilled from Hagrid's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle . . . I jes' couldn' bear ter see yeh this way, y'know. Dead an' all. I wuz sorry yeh died. Always thought 'bout yeh, but didn' wan' ter see yeh like this. Wanted ter remember yeh like yer was. Alive," he told her, wiping at his eyes. "Yeh wuz so young an' tha only one tha' understood me. Broke my 'eart, it did."

Myrtle stared at Hagrid. This was the first time in her ghostly half-life that anyone had ever expressed any care for her, or grief. She could see Hagrid truly mourned her. Someone really had cared that she was gone.

"Oh Hagrid," she said softly, more tears falling, but these weren't her normal tears of despair, but tears grounded in joy. "Thank you for missing me. And it wasn't Aragog. I liked Aragog. He was a great spider."

"E's old now, near blind, 'e is," Hagrid said, "I hid 'im in a cave an' got 'im a wife. Got plenty 'o children, 'e does. Guess 'e's happy though . . . wit' family an' all."

Myrtle floated there a moment.

"Did . . . did you ever start a family, Hagrid?" she asked him.

Hagrid looked a bit shocked.

"Who? Me? No . . . no woman wants anythin' ter do wit' the likes of me, Myrtle," he told her. "It's jes' me an' the creatures . . . like it always were."

Myrtle looked at Hagrid. He had been so nice to her when they were in school. The only one who was, really. He told her not to worry about what other people said, and that he liked her glasses because they made her eyes big and sparkly. Maybe if she had lived, they might have become more than friends. Hagrid was so interesting, and so kind. He loved everything living. Nothing was too poisonous, or too dangerous to love.

Myrtle's eyes welled up again as she thought about how her life had ended, and now, what might have been.

"Myrtle, I need ter ask yeh somethin'," Hagrid ventured, "somthin' 'bout students. Any been in 'ere? Maybe lookin' fer somethin'?"

"There was a witch and a wizard that came and asked me how I died," she said, "they were very interested. But I got upset and they left."

"Kin yeh tell me wha' tha asked yeh? It's importan', Myrtle. Could mean trouble, it could," Hagrid told her.

"Sure I can, Hagrid," she said, floating backwards.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know."

* * *

After half an hour, Hagrid left the castle, promising Myrtle he'd visit with her more often. He also secured a promise from the ghost as well. He was sure she'd keep her word.

Myrtle couldn't tell him anything about what was said after she left Hermione and Neville in despair, because she was moaning and not listening, so she didn't hear Hermione discover the snake on the faucet. When Luna came out of the stall, she only said something was more interesting than a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, whatever that was. So other than being able to repeat her conversation with Hermione and Neville, she wasn't much help.

Hagrid suspected there was much more to the questioning of Myrtle. He walked across the grounds, his mind troubled. He didn't want to go to Dumbledore with this, and start it all up again, bringing himself under scrutiny. He didn't have enough evidence for this to be taken seriously. It could be nothing but students mucking around. Periodically, there were searches for the chamber, although most people believed it to be a myth these days. Something to frighten folks, like the bogeyman in the basement.

But Hagrid knew it was more than that. Hermione Granger was a right smart witch. She might even be smart enough to really find the chamber.

But if she did, and entered it, that would prove she was also the stupidest witch at Hogwarts. No student could face a basilisk and live.

Hagrid sighed and thought so hard, his head heated up, little flitnicks popping off of it, falling to their deaths in tiny flames. Suddenly, he got an idea.

He'd have to talk to Dumbledore.

* * *

A/N: At last, another chappie. Thanks for reading.


	17. Preparations and Suspicions

**Chapter 17 Preparations and Suspicions**

"And the last announcement I have before you're all dismissed, is that Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper, will be patrolling the castle after curfew for the rest of the year," Harry said, his mouth twisting slightly.

Draco's eyes widened. Hagrid would be patrolling the castle? Why? Anyone could see that oaf coming a mile away.

"Why is Mr. Hagrid patrolling the castle?" one of the Prefects asked Harry, as the rest of them looked at him curiously.

Luna was there, sitting quietly, playing with her pink masks as if she had nothing at all to do with the morning Prefect assignments. But, she was listening, and closely.

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know, really. I just received this parchment from Dumbledore stating he would be," Harry replied. "There's probably some reason for it, if to bring him in out of the cold."

This elicited chuckles from the rest of the Prefects. Only Luna didn't crack a smile.

"All right, everyone is dismissed," Harry said.

The Prefects left, Luna wandering out behind them. Of course, Draco remained behind.

"What's this about Hagrid? Who needs him? We have you and Luna, not to mention Professor Snape patrolling the castle during the week, and you add two Prefects on the weekends. That's more than enough," Draco said.

"I know, Draco," Harry replied, filing the parchment in a file cabinet. They met each morning in the small ante-chamber that was used to hold first-years for Sorting at the beginning of the term.  
"But for some reason, the Headmaster added him. He didn't take a vote or anything, so we're stuck with the big goon. I doubt if he catches a single person. Anyone gadding about will be able to smell him long before they see him."

Draco followed Harry out.

"How's he going to take points? You have to have a wand on you for the hourglasses to reflect the points lost," the pureblood said.

Harry shrugged.

"He'll probably have to take their names and write them down. If they're smart, they'll fudge their names. After a couple of mistakes, Dumbledore might put him back on the grounds where he belongs," Harry replied.

"Maybe," Draco agreed as they headed for breakfast.

They arrived just as the owl post did. The birds flew overhead, dropping envelopes, newspapers and parcels down on the students.

Luna caught a parcel in a plain brown wrapper. She looked at the address it originated from and smiled. Her father had sent it along after picking it up at the post in London.

Luna shook the box slightly and it rattled. She was quite pleased.

That hadn't taken long at all. She'd make sure she kept it on her at all times.

* * *

The third night of Hagrid's patrolling, he ran into none other than Professor Snape. The Potions master studied him as they stood near Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor.

"Good evening, Hagrid," the professor said to the half-giant, who looked a bit jumpy.

"Hiya, Perfesser," Hagrid said, "jes' checkin' things out."

"Yes, that much is obvious, Hagrid," Snape replied, looking around the wizard and down the little utilized hallway. "But, this area is never used by students to hide in, due to the ghostly occupant of the girl's bathroom. She serves as a rather reliable deterrent"

"Oh, yah mean Myrtle? Yeah, but yer never knows, perfesser. Tha might creep down here anyway, tryin' ter shag an' all," Hagrid responded.

"I've never caught anyone down here in all my time at Hogwarts, Hagrid. It is not necessary to patrol this area. That ghost repels anyone who enters her domain," Snape said, his eyes narrowing.

Something was going on here. He had been surprised to hear that Hagrid had been assigned patrol duties, although he knew Dumbledore favored him.

"I was curious as to just why you are patrolling, Hagrid. We have more than enough Prefects to cover the castle," Snape said, his dark eyes studying the half-giant.

"Oh, I'm lookin' fer Stone Gougers. Seen signs of 'em workin' at tha castle walls," Hagrid said. This was the excuse he used to get Dumbledore to let him check the castle out at night, "Tha only comes out at night, yer know. Nasty lil' buggers."

Snape didn't say anything, but he knew that Hogwarts castle was perfectly capable of repairing any minor damage to itself.

"The castle can repair any Gouger damage, Hagrid," Snape replied.

"Ah yeah, it kin. But tha statues can't," Hagrid replied, his eyes shifting a bit guiltily.

Ah, Gryffindors. No matter their age, they were all so easy to read, with the exception of Dumbledore, whose twinkling blue eyes hid a multitude of sins.

"Very well, Hagrid. Carry on. Let me know if you are in need of any . . . assistance," Snape purred at him, turning and leaving with a billow of robes.

Hagrid let out a sigh of relief as the dark wizard left. He wasn't any good at lying, but he hoped Snape accepted his explanation.

Of course, Snape hadn't. He'd be watching for more than students in the upcoming months. Hagrid was up to something, and he'd find out what.

* * *

"Hermione, I feel bloody ridiculous," Neville complained.

The week of study had passed, and now Hermione was focused on prepared for their assault on the Chamber of Secrets. They had a way in, but now they needed to be able to look at the basilisk without being killed or petrified. She had an idea and was building it around Neville's head. Using an inverted wok-like pot, Hermione made holes all around the rim and attached little iron rods with adjustable swivels on the ends.

"Just hold still, Neville. I've got several more adjustments to make," Hermione hissed at him.

Hermione was building a kind of reflector hat, made of mirrors, regular ones in the back and dark tinted mirrors in front, planning to use reflection in order to see. The back mirrors were lower, and extended like wings on either side behind Neville's head, and she was trying to angle the wings to reflect to the dark front mirrors. It sort of looked like a Mongol's helmet. Hermione gave the left back mirror a twist.

"Can you see in front of you?" she asked him.

He could, but mostly stone floor. It was very dim.

"You have to tilt it up more," Neville said, then "Ow! That's my ear, Hermione!"

"Stop whining, Neville," Hermione snarked at him, the tip of her tongue extending from the corner of her mouth as she twisted the screw. "Now, how's that?"

"Better, but the right side has to be adjusted too," the wizard said.

Hermione worked on the helmet a bit more, and finally Neville could see in front of him, but the images on the front mirrors were rather dim. Hermione was working on the premise that they could look at the reflection of the basilisk and see where it was without actually seeing it in entirety, more like a shadow. Its eyes would be shadowed too.

But the hat looked ridiculous. Like a bad prop from a "B" space movie. But aesthetics aside, it was a pretty good idea, in theory. Neville walked around the room, then Hermione tried it.

"I wish I had some of that light adjusting tint that goes darker when the surroundings are lighter," she said wistfully. They had no idea how bright the chamber would be.

"You really think that thing will work?" Neville asked her doubtfully.

"It should. You have to meet the gaze of the basilisk in order for it to affect you. If you can't see its eyes clearly, then you should be all right. But we need to add a chin strap, otherwise the hat could slide off."

Chin straps?

Good Godric. Neville hoped no one saw them wearing those things. He'd never live it down.

Hermione pulled out her wand and duplicated the helmet. She looked at it with satisfaction.

"And there you go, Neville, the first 'Basilisk Gazer One Thousand,' she said with a smile as Neville rolled his eyes at the sappy name.

"Shouldn't that be the 'Basilisk Gazer One?'" he asked her.

Hermione shook her head.

"The 'Basilisk Gazer One Thousand' sounds much more impressive," she replied. "Now, we have to work on spells."

* * *

Severus Snape was quite an observant man. He hadn't developed the impressive skills he had in the other timeline, but he was still quite good at noticing subtle differences in people he was familiar with. He couldn't help but notice that Hermione seemed rather giddy and excited in his class, and not only in his class but every place she went.

Also, she seemed to have lost interest in him, not that it was glaring, but it was apparent for a few days whenever their eyes met, but then . . . it fizzled out. Had she come to terms with what happened between them and just pushed it to the back of her mind, or even out of her mind all together?

Snape fervently hoped not. He had hoped that link between them could be utilized to start a relationship in this timeline as well. If she just . . . took it in stride, it didn't bode well for him. And it wouldn't do for him to become solicitous this early. He planned to subtly approach the witch after she accepted his offer of apprenticeship. Intimate relationships between masters and apprentices were generally accepted. Usually it was male/male due to most masters taking on male apprentices. Actually, he and Hermione would be considered a rather odd match. Usually the practice was divided along strict sexual lines, mistresses teaching female apprentices, and masters teaching the males.

So, some gossip might arise if they did become involved, just because of the novelty of the situation. But Snape was more than willing to suffer through the grinding of the rumor mill to acquire Hermione. She was more than worth a few whispers.

Hopefully she would feel the same way.

Still, there was something going on with the witch that had her on point, and he wanted to know what it was. Maybe some assignment or new area of study that caught hold of her fertile imagination. Well, at least her marks were back to their usual high quality. They had slipped for a short while, so that meant she was attending to her studies. He hoped she would continue to do so.

"Miss Granger, a word, if you please," the Potions master said as class let out.

Hermione donned her backpack and walked up to his desk.

"Yes, professor?" she asked him.

"I noticed that you have a rather, shall we say, buoyant air about you recently. I'm curious to know what has captured your interest. A new area of study perhaps? I hope that it is not overshadowing your appreciation for potions, if that is indeed the case."

"Oh no, professor. I love potions as much as ever. I've just been doing a bit of interesting research into mythical creatures and find it fascinating," she told him, her eyes shining, "in fact, I think I'm about to make a breakthrough."

"Do tell, Miss Granger, and what kind of breakthrough would that be?" he asked her, cocking his head slightly.

Hermione was brought up short.

"Ah . . . well . . . I'd prefer to keep that to myself until I actually . . . present it, professor," she said.

Snape frowned at her.

"Miss Granger, I sincerely hope you aren't doing anything dangerous," he said to her softly, "your hesitance to reveal what your breakthrough is, leads me to think you possibly are."

Hermione went crimson, and Snape wasn't pleased.

"Are you involved in dangerous research, Miss Granger?" he demanded of her, truly concerned now.

Hermione got herself together quickly.

"My hesitance is because I want my research finding to be a surprise, professor. What fun is it if someone knows exactly what you are going to present? Surely you don't give away your original potion secrets when asked, do you, professor?" she asked him.

Snape eyed her.

"No, I don't," he said softly, "however, I am an adult wizard and . . . "

"Er . . . professor, I'm an adult too," Hermione reminded him a bit curtly.

Snape blinked at her.

"Yes, technically you are, Miss Granger, but you are also a student at this institution and thus the responsibility of the staff, of which I am a member," the Potions master responded tightly.

"I understand that, professor, but just because you are in authority over me, it doesn't mean you can arbitrarily access information from me. You can only do that if some rule or law has been broken. And it hasn't. I just want to keep my research to myself until it is completed and ready to be shown to the world," the witch said.

Brown eyes met black eyes steadily. Hermione was right of course. He couldn't force her to tell him anything if she wasn't in error. He was just trying to keep her from making an error, and possibly getting hurt. He was invested in the young witch after all.

"I'm afraid you are right, Miss Granger. Sweeping powers would come in handy right now, but I am curtailed by your rights to privacy, I fear. However, you have made me suspicious, and I warn you, young lady . . . I will have my eye on you," he told her flatly.

"That's fine, professor," she replied, then said cheekily, "I'll have my eye out for you as well. Goodbye, sir."

Hermione turned and exited his classroom.

Snape sat there, looking after the witch long after she was gone.

He had the feeling he'd just been issued a challenge.

He liked nothing better than a challenge, and added another person to his "Watch List."

* * *

A/N: Ooh, cheeky Hermione. Well, Snape suspects both Hagrid and Hermione are up to something. No doubt he'll be lurking in the shadows. Thanks for reading.


	18. Getting Over the Final Hurdle

**Chapter 18 Getting Past the Final Hurdle**

Next on the list was reconnaissance. Hermione and Neville needed to actually make it to the second floor bathroom after curfew without being caught. Harry and Luna patrolled nightly, and Filch was ALWAYS lurking about with his cat, Mrs. Norris, who was a bit of a problem herself, because she could scent them. Then there was Snape. No one ever knew when he would pop up and now Hagrid was added to the crew.

"There's just so many of them," Hermione complained to Neville as they discussed the problem. "If we get caught before we get there, and with all the items we'll have, it will all be ruined. We have to come up with a foolproof plan, Neville."

They were seated outside of the castle on one of the stone benches in the garden. They had finished supper and retired there, adding a Silencing charm to insure privacy.

A good thing they did too, because Snape was also in the garden, watching them. But he couldn't hear what they were saying. It was obvious, however, that the pair was very focused.

Neville frowned as he thought about it. There had to be some kind of way to get an idea just how everyone operated. Then he got a thought.

"I'm on it, Hermione," he told the witch.

Hermione blinked at him as he stood up.

"What are you going to do, Neville?" she asked him.

"I'm going to go straight to the source . . . or one of the sources," he replied, walking off.

Hermione hopped up and followed him.

Snape watched as they passed, Hermione desperately trying to get Neville to tell her what he was going to do. Unfortunately, neither gave any details about it. Well, their sneaking off and casting Silencing spells around themselves was very suspicious. Whatever they were discussing, they didn't want anyone to hear them. It was enough for Snape to continue watching them.

* * *

Neville told Hermione she had to leave him alone in the Common Room with their other housemates, or what he planned wouldn't work. Hermione was furious he wouldn't tell her what he was going to do, but he assured her he'd give her all the details once he accomplished his "mission."

They entered the Common Room. Prefect Dean Thomas and Ronald Weasley were engaged in a game of Wizard's Chess, Seamus Finnegan watching them play.

As Hermione stomped up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, Neville sauntered over to the game, greeting everyone and watching until Ron won. He was a wiz at Wizarding Chess. The broken pieces repaired themselves and scuttled over to their positions as Seamus replaced Dean at the table.

Neville looked at Dean for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Er . . . Dean, I wanted to ask you something. I know you're a Prefect and all, but I was hoping you'd help me out."

Dean looked at Neville suspiciously. It sounded as if he wanted him to do something against the rules. As a Prefect, he couldn't do that.

"What do you want, Neville?" Dean asked him.

"Well . . . you see, there's this girl . . . in Hufflepuff . . ."

Neville wove a tale of seduction and possible female penetration that made every wizard at the table stop and look up at him. Any time a wizard managed to shag a witch at Hogwarts, it was a cause for celebration among all the young males. And every one of them would do what they could to help a potential shag along.

"So you see, Dean, I want to meet her somewhere in the castle without getting caught," Neville finished, declining to give the imaginary witch's name. "I was hoping you could give me some tips how to do that."

Dean smiled and rubbed his hands together. Yes, he was a Prefect, but this situation superseded his sense of duty. This was about Shagging. Shagging took precedence every time.

"Well, I can tell you some spots, but what you have to worry about is actually getting by Harry and the rest of them," Dean told him. "Harry's easy and predictable. He starts at nine o'clock, goes straight through the floors and back down. He doesn't search really, or double back. But if he catches you and you're not a Slytherin, he always takes the full points allowed."

So once Harry got past the second floor he wouldn't be a problem.

"Now, Luna . . . you never know where she's going to pop up or when. She wanders around the castle at all hours. Filch has a real issue with her, but he can't do anything about it. But with Luna, she always takes the least amount of points and if she catches you shagging, she doesn't write it down. She just gives a basic 'out after curfew' note and gives you condoms. She's pretty cool, student-wise, but as a Head Girl, eh. Not tough enough. She lets Harry run the show almost on his own, which he likes."

Neville took this tidbit in with a bit of interest. Still, Luna could be a problem.

"And gods, Filch? You never know where that crotchety bastard's going to be hiding. He scares the shit out of Prefects as much as students. I think he gets off on it. He likes shadows and niches. Avoid really dark areas, but . . . that's no guarantee you'll get past him. Mrs. Norris will follow your trail if she gets a sniff of you, and Filch follows her like she's a bloody bloodhound. Really tricky to get past him. But he's usually in the lower floors. If you get up to the fourth floor, then you can be all right. I think it's all the stairs. He's not in that good a shape. He has arthritis."

Damn. The bathroom was on the second floor so Filch would be a real problem.

"Mr. Hagrid is always hanging around the second floor for some reason, but he's not too observant, so you might slip by him. He's supposed to be looking for Stone Gougers, but he'll turn a student in if he catches one."

Double damn.

"Snape is worst of all. You can't hear him coming, you can't see him . . . nothing. He's like a bloody ghost in black. He has no set time when he patrols and he goes all over the castle, except for the part where Moaning Myrtle is. No one goes there really, but I don't advise you to shag there even if you can get by Mr. Hagrid and Filch. Myrtle is a real cockblocker, believe me. Don't even bother."

Neville looked pretty glum. There were just too many variables. They'd never manage to avoid everyone. His face fell.

"Doesn't look good for a shag at all," he said to Dean as the other wizards looked sympathetic.

Dean shrugged.

"Still, it's worth a try . . . a shag is always worth a try," the Prefect replied.

Neville began to walk away, when suddenly his shoulder was gripped. He turned to see Ron holding him back.

"Hold on, Neville," he told him, "I tell you what . . . if you're willing to give me a Pensieve of the shag, I can help you get past everyone," he said in a low voice, looking around to make sure no one heard him.

Neville frowned at Ron. He was really a randy bastard. He wanted a Pensieve of him shagging somebody? Merlin.

"A Pensieve?" Neville repeated.

"Yeah. I just want to . . . watch," Ron said with a twisted smile.

"And wank," Neville said with a snort.

"Yeah, that too . . . but I have something that will really help you out, Neville. Come on and let me show you," he said, walking toward the stairs that led up to the boy's dorm.

Hermione watched them. She had Disillusioned herself and loitered about on the upper landing, but she couldn't hear what Neville and Dean were talking about. Now he was going up the stairs with Ron. She couldn't follow or even come down. Her shimmer would be noticed. Damn it. She wished she knew what Neville was up to.

Ron brought Neville into his room, which he shared with Dean and Seamus. Neville had his own private room because his parents paid extra for it. Posters of the Chudley Canons hung on the wall around his bed. Since being abandoned by Harry, he dumped the Bigonville Bombers as his favorite team in retaliation, not that either James or Harry noticed.

Ron pulled out the bottom drawer of his nightstand, then removed the junk inside it, then a false bottom. He took out a folded parchment and looked at Neville with a wicked smile.

"My brothers Fred and George gave me this when they graduated," he said to Neville, opening and eyeing the parchment as if it were made of gold.

Neville wasn't impressed as he looked at the large, empty piece of old paper.

"What is it?" he asked.

In response, Ron said reverently, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Suddenly, the parchment filled in. It showed Hogwarts castle and the grounds outside.

Neville stared at the map. On it were tiny people. There was Luna, Hagrid, Snape, Filch and Harry. It showed where they were.

"It only shows people who have a reason to be seen," Ron explained, "It's called the Marauder's Map. Fred and George lifted it from Filch's office ages ago. It's how they got around to do all their pranks. It even shows secret passages leading from the castle."

Neville was stunned as he looked at Snape in his office and Luna wandering outside the castle. Filch and Mrs. Norris were lurking near the library, and Hagrid was in his hut. Harry was in the Slytherin Common Room. He looked at Ron with round eyes.

"That's . . . that's bloody amazing, Ron!" he gasped.

"Worth that Pensieve?" Ron asked him.

Neville nodded.

Ron handed Neville the map.

"To clear it, all you have to say is 'Mischief Managed,'" the redhead told him.

"Mischief Managed," Neville intoned, and the parchment cleared. It was blank again.

Neville looked at Ron.

"Thanks, Ron," he said gratefully.

"Not a prob, mate. Just hang on to it, and give it back with the Pensieve when you're done," Ron replied good-naturedly. "Just try and be creative when you shag her, do a lot of different positions, ones that show you really pounding her."

"Sure, sure," Neville said, still staring at the parchment, not even thinking about how pissed off Ron was going to be when he didn't get his wanking aid. He was a perv anyway.

But Hermione was going to have a Manticore when she got a load of this.

* * *

"This is marvelous, Neville!" Hermione exclaimed as she looked at the Marauder's Map, her brown eyes wide as she took in the location of everyone that could cause them problems. "We'll be able to make it to the bathroom easily with this. How did you get Ron to give you something this valuable?"

Neville ran his finger around the neck of his robes for a second.

"Well, he wanted to help me out," Neville replied evasively.

"Help you out? Doing what?" Hermione asked him curiously as Neville reddened.

"Well, I told Dean I wanted to find some place in the castle where I could shag a witch from Hufflepuff . . ."

Hermione scowled.

"Why would you ask Dean that? He's a Prefect, Neville . . . he's not going to tell you how to break castle rules," she declared.

"Well, I knew he would if he knew I was trying to . . . to be with a witch. Wizards help each other out when it comes to stuff like that. So Dean told me how everyone operated after curfew. It didn't sound as if we stood a chance, but then Ron offered to let me use this map if I . . ."

Neville faltered.

"If you what?" Hermione asked him. "What did he want in exchange?"

"A Pensieve of me shagging the witch," Neville mumbled.

Hermione stared at him, then said, "Wizards are all such pigs! Honestly, Ron is just . . . disgusting, wanting to watch you shag someone. Ew! And I can't believe you agreed to that, Neville!"

Neville looked at Hermione as if she were crazy.

"Hermione, I'm not going to be giving him a Pensieve of that . . . I'm going to be facing a basilisk, not shagging anyone, although . . . to be honest I'd prefer it was the latter," he admitted.

"Pigs," Hermione muttered, shaking out the Marauder's Map and staring at it in rapt attention. Then she thought about it. She turned to the wizard, who had sullenly stuck his hands in his robes pocket and was scowling slightly.

Her eyes softened. She was forever giving Neville a hard time. She was lucky he let her boss him around the way she did, although he wouldn't let her walk all over him. But Neville knew Hermione was bossy by nature, so mostly took it in stride and just went along until he couldn't take it any longer and straightened her out.

He looked on the verge of doing just that, actually . . . but Hermione knew he'd done a fine job of getting around the curfew problem. So what if he took advantage of the ever-randy nature of his housemates? It wasn't as if Hermione didn't know what it was like to want to have sex, and what's more, she'd had it already. Neville and probably Ron hadn't yet. She shouldn't be so hard on them. She immediately set about making things right.

"But that was smart of you, Neville. You probably couldn't have gotten the map otherwise. Sometimes, you're a genius, you know that?" she said to him with a smile.

"Maybe being around you all the time has rubbed off a bit," he said, smiling back at her.

"Maybe, but I think a lot of its just there already," Hermione replied, "now, come sit down. We've got planning to do."

* * *

A/N: All right, the dragons are all lined up in a row now. A way into the chambers, a way past everyone who could stop them (maybe). Now, all that's left is . . . well, we'll have to see, won't we? Thanks for reading.


	19. Heading for Trouble

**Chapter 19 Heading for Trouble**

Two days later, Neville was leaving the Medical Ward and saw Luna walking ahead of him. She was dragging her hand along the stone wall in a wavy motion, and waving her wand like a baton in the other.

He slowed down so as to stay behind her, although he had to get to class. He had stopped by the ward in order to get something for his stomach. It had been acting up lately, probably because of his upcoming adventure with Hermione. He was nervous, but excited. It seemed possible they could indeed overcome the basilisk if they followed their plan.

Luna seemed to slow down too, although she didn't look back. Neville's stomach tightened a bit as he drew closer.

Suddenly the witch said, "Hi Neville," and stopped walking.

Neville blinked. How did she know it was him behind her? She hadn't looked around. But he hurried up and stopped next to her.

"Hi Luna," he said softly, looking into her big blue eyes.

She gave him a soft smile.

"Why did you go see Madam Pomfrey?" she asked him as she started walking again.

"Um, stomach trouble," Neville said shortly, reflexively bringing his hand to his stomach, "but she fixed me right up with some Calming potion."

"Worry often does that. Are you worried about something, Neville?" she asked him idly, still trailing her hand along the wall and waving her wand.

"No, not really. We have exams, you know. Maybe that's what's doing it," he replied.

"Hm," Luna said, stopping and looking up at him. Neville had the feeling she could see right inside of him, and his heart starting pounding.

"I make you nervous," she stated.

Neville didn't reply, he just swallowed.

"That's not good for your stomach. Maybe you should go," she suggested.

Neville blinked at her. This would be the perfect time to ask her out, but he couldn't get the words out. He let out an aggravated sigh.

"All right, Luna. It was nice seeing you," he said awkwardly, then walked away. He stopped for a moment as if he were going to turn back toward her, then faltered and continued walking.

Luna watched him for a moment, then suddenly flicked her wand toward the wizard. His robes billowed slightly but Neville didn't feel her tracking spell at all.

"You'll be seeing me again, Neville Longbottom," she said as she flicked her wand in the air and a small floating map appeared in front of her, showing where Neville was in the castle with little footprints.

This wasn't a spell that was taught at Hogwarts. She had learned it on her own after reading an Auror handbook she found in a wizarding thrift shop two years ago. Normally, the book wouldn't have been available to the public. It must have been mixed in with whatever else was dropped off at the shop, which simply had piles of unsorted items for sale. Luna snapped the book up immediately and the clerk charged her the set going rate for second-hand books.

The handbook listed the spells an Auror had to know, and the wand movements that accompanied them. Luna made it a point to learn all of the spells, thinking they could come in handy. She flicked her wand at the translucent map and it faded away.

She continued running her hand over the wall as she walked. Suddenly, a stone pushed in and the wall opened.

Luna blinked at the secret passage, then smiled slightly as the wall slid back into place.

She'd found another one.

* * *

"He's carrying a chicken around with him, Draco! In a box with a handle and air holes," Harry said to the pureblood as they made their way to supper. "He said it helps him find Stone Gougers, but he never lets it out where anyone can see."

Harry was talking about Hagrid and his night patrols.

"Maybe it's his girlfriend," Draco chuckled, "something to keep him company those long nights."

Harry's face contorted as he thought about the possibility of Hagrid being a chicken lover. They were out there after all, the sickos. But he really didn't believe that.

"Ew. No, it would be dead, Draco. Hagrid's a half-giant. It would never survive a shagging," Harry grimaced, then laughed.

"Maybe it can take it," Draco suggested.

"You're sick, Draco . . . you know that?" Harry laughed.

The two wizards walked into the Great Hall chuckling.

Neville and Hermione were already at supper, the witch picking over her food. She was too excited to eat. Tonight was going to be the night they opened the chamber. They had decided it would be best to do it during the week, because extra Prefects patrolled on the weekends, and it was going to be tough enough to slip by everyone as it was, even with the map.

From the dais, Snape watched Hermione with hooded eyes. She had been terribly distracted in class today, almost exploding her cauldron. For the first time he witnessed Neville actually correcting her, and that was downright disturbing. After class, he gave her a little lecture about paying attention to her brewing and once again asked her what she was up to. Hermione was even more adamant that it was her business and would reveal nothing.

Snape would have placed a tracking spell on the witch, but surveillance of students by staff or staff-appointed students was not allowed as it was an invasion of privacy. If it were allowed, he would have had an easier time of keeping up with Harry in the other timeline.

For a male staff member to put a spell on a female student would definitely be considered a breach of propriety. He wanted to know what Hermione was up to, but not lose his job in the process if he were discovered. And Hermione was sharp enough she might detect the spell. So he'd have to continue to skulk about, hoping to catch her at whatever she was doing.

"Hurry up, Neville," Hermione hissed at the wizard, who was carefully chewing his food before swallowing it down, chasing each bit with pumpkin juice methodically.

He looked at Hermione with a slight frown.

"Madam Pomfrey told me to be sure to chew my food properly when I eat. It will lessen the stomach aches," he said to her. "I need to be in top form tonight, so I'm following her instructions to the letter."

Hermione fumed. She wanted to check over their equipment once more before they set out tonight. Neville's weak belly was slowing things down. She must have checked everything at least a hundred times already.

In their arsenal were the bottled Parseltongue commands, now separated into smaller plastic bottles with labels on them to show what commands they contained, a slew of offensive and defensive spells, and two large oval mirrors with little handles on the back. And of course, there were the Basilisk Gazer One Thousands. The hats were rather heavy and clumsy, and Neville hated the chin straps, but the ridiculous looking metal things had to stay on.

Always the cautious one, Neville had a couple of defensive tricks up his sleeve he hadn't shared with Hermione. He thought it better if he kept them to himself so she wouldn't bark orders at him to use them before he was ready. They would be more effective if he used them in case they needed to retreat.

One should always have a way out and Neville had no intentions on becoming a permanent fixture of the chamber's décor, although he was sure he'd make a fine statue.

Finally, and it seemed like ages later, Neville finished his meal, carefully wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin as Hermione looked like an approaching storm, drumming her fingers on the table. Her aggravation was so noticeable, Snape was really on point. It was easy to tell she wanted to get going someplace, and badly.

He'd be watching for them tonight.

* * *

To Hermione it seemed as if Time had tried to stop completely. It seemed to take hours for just a few minutes to pass. They decided to wait until midnight. That way, Harry would be taken out of the equation. He'd be back in Slytherin house by then and they would only have to worry about Hagrid, Luna, Filch and Mrs. Norris, and of course, Snape.

At midnight, they cautiously met in the Common Room. It was dark except for the fire in the fireplace. Neville opened the map.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Neville breathed.

The map filled in, and Hermione's heart sank as she saw the location of Snape. He was right outside Gryffindor Tower, standing next to the suit of armor in the corridor, probably hiding behind it. He could even be Disillusioned.

"Oh bloody hell," Hermione hissed. "Professor Snape is right outside. He told me he'd have his eye on me. I didn't know he'd be so serious about it."

Neville studied the parchment.

"Filch and Mrs. Norris are on the third floor, but are moving toward the stairwell, so they must be going to the lower floors. Hagrid is actually in the bathroom. Harry's in bed in Slytherin house and Luna . . ."

Neville hesitated.

"I don't see Luna on the map at all!" he exclaimed.

"Maybe she's left the castle for the night. She's not on the grounds?" Hermione asked him.

"No. Why would she leave the castle on a weeknight? I could see the weekends. Plus, she's not of age yet, so she couldn't just leave," Neville said, his brow furrowed.

"Well, she's not wandering around the castle, and that makes the odds better for us," Hermione said to him. "But how are we going to get past Professor Snape?"

Both of them looked down at the map. Snape's tiny image wasn't moving.

"Well, he can't stay there all night. Let's just try to wait him out," Neville suggested.

"Damn it," Hermione hissed.

They waited for over an hour for Snape to leave, but he didn't. He remained where he was and no doubt vigilant.

"Maybe we should try again tomorrow, Hermione," Neville suggested.

"No. Tomorrow's Friday. There'll be two more Prefects on patrol, Neville . . . it'll be harder than ever."

"Next week then," he suggested.

"No, tonight is perfect. All we have to do is get past Snape," Hermione said insistently.

Neville's eyes widened.

"McGonagall's appeared on the map. She's on her way up here," the wizard said. Both Neville and Hermione watched as she rose level after level until she reached the tower corridor. She walked down it, and then Snape's image converged on hers.

"They're talking! Come on, we've got to hide this stuff and get back in bed," Neville said to Hermione.

They scrambled, hiding the mirrors, hats and doodads behind the curtains and ran for their rooms, both leaping into their beds and covering up completely to hide their clothing.

Sure enough, Minerva walked into both their rooms to check on them. They appeared to be sleeping. She was dressed in a housecoat and slippers, her hair in a loose bun. Hermione did her best to breathe easily and rhythmically as Minerva shined her wand on her. The witch harrumphed.

"I told Severus he was in error. Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom are not the type to roam around the castle at all hours of the night. If he wants to watch for rule breaking students, he should turn those black eyes on his own house," she sniffed, exiting the room.

Hermione lay there for another fifteen minutes before venturing back to the Common Room, looking around for Neville.

"Neville?" she whispered.

Suddenly he appeared from behind a set of long curtains.

"I'm here . . . and Snape left," he told her. "I guess McGonagall told him we were both in bed asleep."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she gazed down on the map.

"He's on the fifth floor now, not near the shifting stairs. If we're careful we can ride down past him. Where's Filch and Mrs. Norris?"

"Near the DADA classroom on the ground floor," he replied.

So that left the fourth, third and first floors free.

"Luna hasn't shown up yet," Neville observed, feeling like he was missing something.

"The less people the better. Hagrid is near Myrtle's bathroom. I think we can distract him and slip by him if we're fast," Hermione said. "Let's get our things and go."

The pair gathered up their goods and Disillusioned themselves, carefully exiting the tower, opening the entrance very slowly so they wouldn't wake up the snoring Fat Lady's portrait. They needn't have worried however. She'd eaten a whole box of bourbon chocolates. She was down for the count, her mouth wide open as she slept in her upholstered chair.

Utilizing a Silencing spell, they quickly ran down the corridor and mounted the shifting stairwell, heading down, watching Snape's image on the map carefully. He was far enough away that they could pass his floor without discovery. Filch was walking through the Entrance Hall and turned into the dungeons. Hagrid was still in the second floor corridor.

They'd deal with him once they reached the second floor landing.

* * *

In the Room of Requirement, Luna watched Neville move through the castle on the hovering map with interest.

"They're on the move," she said to herself.

She checked her pink masks, then her pocket to make sure all was in order.

Of course it was. She'd give them time to make it to the second floor, then make her move.

* * *

Hagrid was standing near the beginning of the little used corridor, talking to Hercules, who was glaring at him balefully from the little cage he was in. If he could get out, he'd peck the half-giant into squirming little pieces.

"I know yah don' like it, Hercules," he said to the angry bird gently, "But I might need yah."

Hercules ruffled his crown at him disdainfully. This was just humiliating. Well, he had to let him out sometime. And when he did . . .

Suddenly, a clatter sounded down the hall, like something falling and hitting the landing.

Snape, who was approaching the stairs himself, also heard the noise and ran forward to investigate.

Hagrid quickly hurried toward the noise too, passing two shimmers pressed tightly against the wall. The shimmers quickly ran the other way, entering Myrtle's bathroom.

Neville and Hermione caught their breaths. It had worked. Hagrid fell for it. They removed the Disillusionment spells and looked at the map. Hagrid was standing at the second floor landing, and Snape was riding the stairs down.

Luna was also on the map now. She was heading up to the third floor.

"Where'd Luna come from?" Hermione asked.

Neville shook his head, at a complete loss.

"I don't know, but she's not coming this way. Let's get armed and ready," he said.

In her stall, Myrtle listened with interest, wondering what they were doing. She didn't come out though because she wanted to spy. If this were anything juicy, she'd tell Hagrid.

* * *

Luna appeared on the other side of the second floor landing on the other side of the castle and waved at Professor Snape and Hagrid, who were both looking about trying to find out the source of the noise. Seeing Luna was no surprise and they didn't pay her much attention as she mounted the stairwell and rode it to the third floor landing above them, then disappeared down the corridor.

Luna walked down two corridors, then stopped in front of a wall and pressed a brick. It slid open and Luna entered. It closed behind her. She walked forward a few feet, then suddenly dropped.

* * *

Hermione and Neville had out the bottle of Parseltongue labeled "Open" and were just about to open it, when the wall next to them opened up and Luna slid out, landing neatly on her feet beside them. She pulled out an atomizer and promptly sprayed them down with it.

"Hey!" a startled Hermione cried out in a whispered gag. "What the hell are you doing, Luna?"

Neville turned green as the funk washed over him, and Luna liberally sprayed herself as well. Whatever that stuff was, it didn't smell good at all.

"It's weasel musk," Luna said softly, putting the bottle back into her pocket.

"Basilisks hate it."

* * *

A/N: Annnnd they're off! Lol, Luna. Weasel scent. Gah. That must stink. :snickers: Now we see Luna's "hand-trailing" serves a purpose after all. That's how she finds secret passageways. Smart chick there. Thanks for reading.

A/A/N: I had to do some age adjusting. Severus was seventeen when Hermione met him, not eighteen, and Luna just turned sixteen, not seventeen. I did a couple of teeny rewrites to fit this info in properly. Sorry about that. Actually, I find it a bit sexy Hermione was older than Snape, but hardly a cougar. lol. The rewrites are in chapters 1, 8 and 13 if anyone wants to revamp. Thanks.


	20. Entering the Chamber

**Chapter 20 Entering the Chamber**

Neville stared down at Luna, looking absolutely ridiculous in his wok-like, mirrored Basilisk Gazer One Thousand. Hermione frowned at the Ravenclaw.

"Luna, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked.

"Coming along," she replied, starting to undo Neville's chin-strap.

"I don't know how you found out about the chamber, but you can't come. You don't have any of the protections we do. We can't spend our time protecting you!" Hermione declared, "and leave Neville's hat alone. He needs that!"

"Oh, it's a good design, but I've got something less clunky we can use," she told Hermione as she removed Neville's hat and set it down on one of the chipped sinks. She took off one of the bright pink masks she wore. She had at least seven of them on.

"Here, put this on, Neville," she said to the wizard, who obeyed her as if under the Imperious curse. Luna was here, and wanted to go with them.

Neville pulled the mask on as Hermione scowled at him. He was going to be distracted if Luna came along and Hermione needed him focused.

He looked just as ridiculous in the frilly, pink mask as he did in the Basilisk Gazer. But his mouth dropped open as he looked at Hermione, then all around the bathroom.

"This is fantastic!" he breathed. "How did you do this, Luna?"

"Oh, well I use it for sketching landscapes, but thought it could come in handy for facing basilisks," she replied non-chalantly.

"What?" Hermione demanded, a bit put off at Neville's reaction to the mask. It looked like something a witch would wear in a cheesy sex Pensieve.

Luna offered Hermione a mask.

Hermione glowered at it, then resolutely removed her hat, determined to find fault with whatever Luna had done, but once she put the mask on and looked through the mesh, she was truly amazed.

She could see the bathroom just fine, but both Luna and Neville had no visual definition. They looked like black silhouettes. The masks only let in the surrounding landscape, apparently blacking out living things. Actually, Luna's original masks could also black out landscapes and only show the object she was focused on, but she made these so no mistakes would be made in viewing by the uninitiated.

Hermione raised the mask and Luna and Neville appeared normally, Luna blinking at her with those big, blue eyes. Hermione's stomach tightened with a bit of jealousy. She had to admit these masks would be easier to work with than the hats. They wouldn't be obtrusive at all.

"It seems you thought a lot about this," Hermione said tightly. "But you don't have a mirror shield to reflect the basilisk's reflection back at it."

"Oh, I'll just improvise," Luna said.

"But . . . but it was just supposed to be Neville and I . . ." Hermione started in.

Neville put his hand on her arm.

"Just let her come, Hermione. She's already shown us she knows what she's doing," he said to his friend.

Hermione bit back the retort that Neville wanted Luna to come because he fancied her. It was true, of course, but what was also true is that Luna was brilliant and her additions to this venture were better than what Hermione had come up with. And Hermione knew it.

It was rather humbling.

"Plus, I'm Head Girl. If I don't go, no one goes," Luna said softly. "I'll just have to put my foot down, although I really don't like to do that. We should just go. You have the bottled Parseltongue, don't you?"

Hermione had just been about to take Luna to task for pulling rank on her, when she stopped short.

"How do you know about the bottled Parseltongue?" she asked her, her eyes narrowing. "Have you been spying on us?"

"Only a little. But I left the book on the table for you in the library when I stopped to talk to you," Luna explained. "I knew once you saw the title, you'd figure out how utilize it. You're smart that way."

Hermione was slightly mollified by Luna's pronunciation of her smartness. The witch's acknowledgement made everything a little easier to bear.

"You're pretty bright too, Luna," Hermione admitted.

Luna shrugged.

"I do all right, I guess . . . but we really should get going," the Ravenclaw said, her eyes shifting toward the faucet.

"Yeah, we should," Neville agreed, staring at Luna's silhouette, before lifting the mask and letting it rest on his forehead.

"All right. We'll just leave the hats here and use the masks," Hermione said, walking up to the sink and holding the corked plastic bottle near the faucet. The label read, "Open."

"Here goes," Hermione breathed, pulling out the cork.

Quirrel's soft hiss sounded. At first nothing happened.

"Damn," Hermione said glumly.

"Wait," Luna said quietly.

Suddenly the tap glowed with a brilliant white light, illuminating the entire bathroom. It was a good thing the door was closed or Snape and Hagrid, who were still on the landing, would have seen the glow in the corridor.

Then it began to spin, and the sink . . . to move. It sank out of sight, leaving a very large pipe exposed, one large enough for even Hagrid to slide through.

"The entrance," Neville breathed, staring at the pipe's opening. "I'll go first, just to make sure it's safe . . . "

But Neville was cut short as Luna stepped into the opening and disappeared, sliding away.

"Luna!" Neville hissed, launching himself after the witch.

"Neville!" Hermione cried, jumping in after him.

It felt like she left her stomach in the bathroom as she shrieked in fright as she slid down the pipe as if it were a dark, slimy slide. It was like a rollercoaster, with humps, curves, spirals and even a loop, Hermione flying along it, unable to stop screaming.

Luna rode the pipe rather calmly, not screaming at all as her long blonde hair whipped about. There were other pipes around them, but none as big as this one. She rounded a curve, then zipped over a hump and plummeted straight down, checking her nails.

Neville couldn't scream or anything he was so terrified. He clutched his mirror shield to him tightly and could see Luna in front of him, sliding calmly, her hair streaming. How couldn't she be scared? What was going to happen when they reached the end of this thing? They could be flung into a wall or something. They had to be deeper than the dungeons now, maybe even miles below the school.

Hermione was screaming her lungs out, her body thudding slightly on the curves behind him, and she was clutching herself as if she were going to break apart. She nearly pissed herself when they went through the loop. Dear gods, was this ride ever going to end?

The pipe leveled out and Luna shot out the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. She quickly rolled out of the way as Neville made a wet landing. Unfortunately, he was so disoriented, he didn't move and Hermione landed on top of him with a final shriek.

Luna stood up, calmly pulled out her wand, and Scourgified the muck off her robes. Neville and Hermione stood up, both shaking as they looked about.

"We must be miles under the school," Hermione said, her quavering voice echoing off the slimy walls. Neville managed to get his wand out and Scourgify both himself and Hermione.

"Lumos," Luna said, lighting her wand so she could see in the dark tunnel ahead of them. Without a word, she started walking.

"Hey, wait! We need to stay together, Luna!" Neville cried, then he looked back at Hermione.

"Come on," he said, lighting his wand and grabbing her hand, pulling the witch behind him as he followed the Ravenclaw.

The tunnel was so dark, they could only see a little distance ahead, and their shadows were large and spooky in the wandlight.

"Watch for signs of movement," Hermione warned, her wand drawn.

But everything was silent as death as they walked forward, Luna's protuberant eyes shifting about slowly. There was a loud crunch, and Luna held her wand down to see what she stepped on.

It was a rat's skull.

Hermione's face contorted as she saw the floor was littered with small animal bones. But they all looked very, very old and brittle. There hadn't been any new kills here in a while.

They continued forward, crunching through the small skeletons, until Luna suddenly stopped, Neville and Hermione stopping beside her. All three sets of eyes went wide.

Hermione could see the outline of something huge and curved, lying across the tunnel. Thankfully, it wasn't moving. Luna moved closer, shining her wand on it.

"It's just a snake skin," she said softly as Neville paled.

"Just a snake skin? It's at least twenty feet long!" he breathed as he looked at the poisonous green colored skin. It lay curled and empty across the tunnel floor. It too, looked old and brittle.

"It's probably bigger now," Hermione intoned.

Neville swallowed.

"You think it's lurking somewhere?" he asked, "ready to leap out on us?"

"No," Luna answered with quiet assurance, "it's dormant. It has to be or people would still be getting petrified."

Hermione had to agree.

"But," Luna added, "we're probably going to wake it up when we arrive in the chamber. I think it's attuned to react to the presence of Muggle-borns, since Salazar Slytherin wanted to run them out of Hogwarts."

Her blue eyes turned toward Hermione.

"I think you're going to have to be the bait, Hermione," she said softly as Hermione paled. "Let's keep going."

Both Neville and Hermione followed Luna. It was actually good she came along. Her easy approach and calmness in the situation was like a balm. If Luna was nervous, it didn't show. The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Hermione's body was tingling. Around another bend was a solid wall. Two entwined serpents were carved into it, great glinting emeralds serving as eyes. Those eyes seemed to flicker as the trio approached.

This time Neville pulled out a bottle marked, "Open," and held it close to the door, uncorking it. Again, Quirrel's soft hiss filled the tunnel and the serpents parted as the wall slid open, the halves sliding out of sight.

The three students walked forward as if they shared one body, and found themselves at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Stone pillars decorated with more carved snakes towered over them, holding up a ceiling shrouded in darkness. They cast long, black shadows through a strange, greenish gloom that filled the place.

As they walked, Neville had the impression the hollow eyes of the carved snakes were following them. Once or twice he thought he saw one move. Hermione was silent too, her eyes casting about the chamber, her wand at the ready and mirror shield held up protectively.

They reached the last set of pillars and Luna pulled up one of the masks around her neck, covering her eyes with it. Neville and Hermione emulated her.

"The chamber," Luna said softly, her blue eyes studying a huge stone statue of a wizard as it as it loomed against the back wall. It was as high as the chamber itself.

They had to crane their necks to look up into the giant face. It was rather monkeyish looking, with a long thin beard that almost reached the bottom the statue's robes.

"Ew, that's Salazar Slytherin?" Hermione said. "Not very attractive is he? Looks as if a bunch of bananas could distract him easily."

Neither Neville nor Luna laughed as they drew closer to the statue. They looked around for an opening, or door, or something that a basilisk could hide in, but didn't see anything.

"Maybe the basilisk died," Neville said.

Luna shook her head.

"It's here. We just have to summon it. Open one of the bottles," Luna said softly, "and back away from the statue. I think it could be inside."

Neville and Hermione backed up as Hermione pulled out another bottle. It read "Come," on the label. Shuddering slightly, she pulled the cork, Quirrel's voice filling the chamber.

There followed a loud rumbling of stone above them.

"Oh my gods," Hermione breathed as the mouth of the statue began to open. "All right, Neville, this is it. Let's not wait. Fire the curse into the statue's mouth!"

Luna stepped back a bit and watched as the pair pointed their wands at the dark entrance above them.

"AVADA KEDARVA!" they both screamed with powerful intent, the dread green blast entering the cave mouth, illuminating the stone within and covering whatever was inside with sudden death.

* * *

"What?" Snape roared at Myrtle.

"They slid down the pipe about half an hour ago," the pearly ghost said to him and Hagrid as they hurried toward her bathroom.

"Why did you let so much blasted time pass before you told us?" Snape hissed at her, his heart pounding.

"I tried to follow them to see where they were going, but got confused and all turned around by the pipes," the ghost replied. "I was just trying to gather good information!"

Myrtle burst into tears.

"Thar, thar, Myrtle. Yah did good," Hagrid said as they entered the bathroom. She sniffed dramatically as Snape snorted.

He eyed the pipe opening and the strange-looking mirrored hats left on the chipped sinks. He picked one up and examined it. What was it?

He put it back down. He didn't have time to try and figure it out. His black eyes shifted back to the pipe opening. Hermione had gone down there, the crazy little witch. No doubt Longbottom was with her. So this was her project?

Dear Merlin. He had to find them before they got themselves killed by whatever lurked down there.

Besides, right now, he felt as if he wanted that honor for himself. He turned to Myrtle, his black eyes hard.

"Make yourself useful. Go alert Dumbledore to what's happening," Snape snapped at her before wrapping his robes around himself and sliding into the pipe, disappearing immediately.

"Dumbledore? He wants me to go get Dumbledore?" Myrtle said to Hagrid in disbelief.

"Yah. You kin git thar tha fastest, Myrtle. Tell 'im tha chamber's been opened," Hagrid said, then he lowered Hercules' cage into the pipes and let it go, then his own bulk, disappearing with a yell.

Myrtle stared after him for a moment, then rose through the ceiling.

She had to alert the Headmaster.

* * *

A/N: Many of the chamber and tunnel descriptions are paraphrased or taken directly from the second book, as well as bits of Harry's original dialogue. Thanks for reading.


	21. Battling the Basilisk

**Chapter 21 Facing the Basilisk**

Myrtle floated through the floor into Dumbledore's office, then drifted down the hallway, following a strange whistling sound. She peeked in a doorway and saw Albus Dumbledore asleep. The whistling noise was coming from his crooked nose. He was sleeping on his back, his long beard lying on top of the covers. His feet stuck out of the bottom of the bed, securely covered in a pair of woolen socks.

"Headmaster," Myrtle said, drifting over him. "Headmaster, wake up!"

Albus didn't move, but continued to sleep.

Myrtle was a ghost, so couldn't shake him. So she did the next best thing. She floated down to the end of the bed and stuck her cold hands through his socks, instantly chilling his feet.

Albus awoke with a shudder. He hated nothing more than cold feet.

"Wha . . . what's going on here?" he demanded, taking his half-moon glasses off the nightstand and setting them on his face.

He sat up in the bed, dressed in a long, white nightshirt and pointy cap that folded over to the side. It had a pom-pom on the end of it and his long white hair streamed from beneath it over his shoulders. He blinked down at Myrtle in surprise as she bobbed midair, looking at him through her pearly glasses.

"Headmaster, Professor Snape sent me. He and Hagrid have gone down into the chamber of secrets after two students," she told the wizard.

"What? They've found the chamber?" he asked her, climbing out of the bed quickly.

"Oh! Ohohohoh!" he hissed as his knees locked up.

Albus was up in years and it took a while for his body to warm up. The spirit was willing, but the bones complained. He placed his hand against his back and bellowed for Fawkes.

The phoenix flew into the room, settling on his bed and cocking his fiery red head at his master, squawking.

"Myrtle, where is the entrance to the chamber?" Albus asked the ghost as he bent and massaged one knee.

"In the girl's bathroom on the second floor," Myrtle replied.

"Amazing," he intoned, then said, "Fawkes, get down there and try to help Severus while we rouse the rest of the staff," he told the bird.

Fawkes squawked assent, then suddenly just flashed out in a burst of light.

Albus looked at Myrtle.

"Myrtle, I need you to go awaken the staff and tell them to meet me in the second floor bathroom in ten minutes," Albus said to the ghost who nodded.

The headmaster's knees locked up again.

"You'd better make that fifteen minutes, Myrtle," he grimaced.

"Yes, sir," Myrtle said, dropping through the floor, enthused that after all these years, she was finally noticed for more than her moaning. She was doing something important.

As she headed for Minerva's room, the ghost felt it was good to be needed.

Snape relaxed, his body straight yet pliant as he flew through the twists and turns of the pipe, so focused on Hermione, he didn't have time to be afraid. He could hear Hercules squawking and Hagrid cursing and yelling behind him as they took the turns as well, the rooster's cage rattling and crashing. Hopefully it wasn't tumbling.

They went down, down, down. The chamber had to be a couple of miles under the school. Snape grimaced as he flew through the loop, then it suddenly occurred to him that this journey might have a very bad end. He managed to work his wand out of his pocket, and carefully gauged his descent. The piping leveled out and he could see the opening drawing closer. Timing it carefully, Snape tapped himself as he zoomed out of the pipe, slowing in midair, Hercules' cage shooting out under him, hitting the ground, tumbling a distance, then breaking apart, followed by Hagrid, who hit the damp, mucky floor with a heavy whomp and a curse.

Snape floated gently downward and landed neatly on his feet.

"Finite Incantatem," he said, tapping himself with his wand again to remove the spell.

Ruffled and out of sorts, Hercules scrambled out of his cage, fluffing his wings and trying to smooth out his feathers. The rooster preened himself and cast a baleful eye on Hagrid as the half-giant struggled to his feet.

"Tha' were quite tha ride, weren't it, perfesser?" he said to Snape, who had lit his wand and was peering up the dark tunnel.

"Why in the world would they come down here?" he said mostly to himself.

"Probably ter kill tha basilisk," Hagrid said, as Hercules got his bearing and flew at his coat. "Hey thar! Stop tha' yah bloody bird!"

Basilisk?

"There's a basilisk down here, Hagrid?" Snape asked him, his heart skipping at the idea of Hermione facing such a dangerous creature.

Snape had heard stories of a monster in the chamber, but no one had said what type of monster until now.

"Yep. I'm sure of it," Hagrid replied. "Its tha only thing tha coulda petrified students an' killed Myrtle tha way it did. Spiders were fleein' tha castle, roosters was bein' killed. It's a basilisk all right or my name's not Rubeus Hagrid."

"Come along," Snape hissed, moving through the dark tunnel swiftly.

"Come on, yah crazy bird. Yer needed," Hagrid said to the still attacking Hercules, who followed him, jumping on his thick coat with both spurs as they headed toward the unknown.

Luna stood by and watched as Neville and Hermione held the Killing curse for nearly thirty seconds, the green light flying into the open mouth of the statue overhead. She couldn't help them. She didn't have the drive or intent to cast such a curse. Luna could do offensive spells . . . as long as she didn't have to actually use them on another living thing. She was a natural pacifist, and even something as horrifying as a basilisk couldn't make her do harm.

This was a definitely liability.

Finally Hermione and Neville broke off the spell, staring upward intently.

Nothing moved.

"Do you think we killed it?" Neville asked her.

Hermione's brown eyes were narrowed and her belly in knots as she looked upward.

"I don't know, Neville. Nothing's moving," she said in a low voice.

Suddenly, something black seemed to flow over the lip of the statue, like ink spilling down the chin of it, but it left no trail as it made its way down, growing larger as it quickly snaked along the stone beard.

"It's not dead!" Hermione cried. "Run back to the pillars!"

She and Neville took off as the basilisk made it to the ground. They couldn't see anything except a large, sensuous black silhouette. A loud hiss filled the chambers.

"We must have missed it," Hermione said, "fire the spell again!"

The two students fired at the basilisk, which undulated, its baleful yellow eyes resting on them.

Luna still stood in the same spot, apparently mesmerized by the giant snake, unable to move as the green light covered it. The snake appeared to writhe, but didn't fall. Both Hermione and Neville were perspiring now with their efforts, but finally they had to stop. For some reason, the Killing curse didn't work on it.

The basilisk hissed again, its eyes turning on Luna, and it slithered toward her, hissing, mouth agape and fangs apparent. The blonde witch still didn't move. She just stared at the huge form slithering toward her as if hypnotized.

"Luna!" Neville cried, dashing toward her.

"Neville!" Hermione screamed, her heart in her throat as she watched him run toward the deadly beast.

The basilisk drew back and struck at Neville, the wizard stopping short, wheeling his arms as it missed him, the great fangs gouging out two holes in the stone floor, sticking for a moment as Neville ran around the great head and grabbed Luna, trying to drag her out of the way.

Horrified, Hermione ran forward as the basilisk wrenched free, the witch jumping up and down, trying to draw the creature's attention.

"Over here! Look over here!" she screamed, waving her arms, her shield in one hand.

It worked. The basilisk turned from Neville and Luna toward the screechy noise. Unlike snakes, basilisks could hear, and quite well.

The basilisk looked down at Hermione, who held up the mirror shield, reflecting its image back at it. The basilisk blinked at her for a moment, then started to strike. Seeing itself in the mirror had no effect. Suddenly it stopped mid-strike, its yellow eyes rolling in its head as it got a good whiff of the weasel scent.

What the hell was that stench?

The basilisk coiled up for a moment, trying to decide whether it wanted to bite something that smelled so unsavory. Hermione stared up at the black silhouette as it swayed like a cobra. Neville pulled Luna behind one of the pillars and shook her until her blue eyes turned on him. She looked rather dazed.

"Stay here," he ordered. "I've got to help Hermione."

He ran back toward the basilisk.

The weasel musk had stopped the creature, but not out of fear . . . it just didn't like the smell. It had never encountered a weasel, so had no idea it was fatal. But damn, it was hungry. Being dormant for decades left it feeling quite peckish. The basilisk let out a hiss and lunged at Hermione, who barely managed to leap out of the way. She started running toward the statue, rather than the pillars which would have offered her more protection. The basilisk weaved after her, fangs dripping with deadly venom.

Neville ran after it, his wand aimed at the creature.

"Hey! Hey, you slimy serpent! Turn around!" he yelled, stepping on the tip of its tail.

The basilisk let out a roar this time. Apparently its tail was quite delicate.

It whipped around toward Neville, who fired a curse at it.

Unfortunately, he was so excited and frightened, he muddled it up. Instead of casting the "Conjunctivitus" curse, that would have temporarily blinded the basilisk, he screamed, "Confundus!"

This was not a good thing, although it stopped the basilisk cold for a moment. Then it started writhing and rolling about, its body and tail lashing wildly. Hermione barely managed to dive out of the way as its tail hit the foot of the statue, breaking off a piece of the stone toes.

"Shit," the witch thought as it writhed about, Neville suddenly swatted away, crashing into the wall and sliding down it, unconscious.

The Confundus spell confused its target, and the basilisk was disoriented and reacting violently. Hermione ran back and forth, trying to get around it as the creature smashed holes in the walls. It twisted and contorted so wildly, it was next to impossible to figure out where it would lash next.

Severus ran up the chamber, his heart thudding as he watched Hermione trying to get past the out of control creature. She was wearing some ridiculous frilly pink mask. He started to run out into the chamber proper with no concern for his own safety.

"Wait, Professor. Put this on. You can look at the basilisk," Luna said softly.

Snape looked at her a bit startled. He hadn't seen her. She held out a pink mask.

Snape snatched it out of her hand and put it on. Sure enough, all he could see was the shape of the rolling creature, all detail blacked out. The Potions master dashed out into the chamber just as Hagrid and the ever-attacking Hercules ran up. The half-giant was breathless.

"Put this on," Luna said, giving Hagrid a mask.

The giant didn't even question it as he put the mask on, then made a grab for Hercules, who pecked at his hands.

"C'mere, yah stupid bird. We needs yah ter git out thar an' crow!" Hagrid hissed at the cock, who darted back and forth menacingly, its feathers ruffed aggressively.

Snape ran into the chamber, dodging and dipping, avoiding the lashing body of the basilisk as best he could as he tried to make his way toward Hermione. She saw his form fleetingly as she avoided another deadly blow of the basilisk's tail. She didn't know who he was however, because he too was a silhouette.

"Neville? Get back!" she shouted at him, then was clipped by the tip of the basilisk's tail, the wind knocked out of her. She couldn't move, her brown eyes wide as the basilisk rolled toward her bodily.

"Effloresco!" a voice shouted.

Suddenly, the basilisk was covered in a thick tangle of vines, its body locked down for a moment.

Neville had awakened and cast a Devil's Snare seed at the creature, charming it into bloom. It wouldn't last long however, because the plant had no place to root. It would die quickly, but maybe give Hermione enough time to get away.

Snape ran around the restrained creature and grabbed Hermione's arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed at her.

"Professor Snape? What are you doing here?" Hermione gasped at him. The grip on her arm was painful as Snape pulled her back toward the pillars.

"Trying to keep you from getting killed! What in the world were you . . ."

Snape was cut short as the basilisk broke free, the Confundus spell dissipating as it oriented on both he and Hermione. Snape pointed his wand at a piece of broken stone, transfiguring it into a long sword. He pushed Hermione out of the way.

"To the pillars!" he hissed at her, grabbing the sword and holding it on the basilisk. "Run! Now!"

"No!" Hermione yelled, refusing to leave him.

Snape cursed under his breath as the basilisk lunged at him. He leapt aside, blade clashing against fang as he slashed at the creature, cutting its gum.

The basilisk hissed, drawing back and attacking again, Snape dancing away. Hermione fired a blasting spell at the creature, but it had no effect. Neville also fired on the beast, trying to help Snape, but the angry snake was now focused on the dark wizard and doing its best to sink his fangs into him.

Hagrid managed to grab Hercules and flung the rooster far into the chamber. Hermione saw the small black form fluttering about, then let out a cry of anguish as Professor Snape let out a terrible yell, his upper right thigh impaled by the basilisk's fang.

"Professor!" Hermione screamed, running toward him.

"No, Hermione!" Neville cried desperately, but Hermione wasn't listening. She was running up to the basilisk and Professor Snape, who was on the ground now.

"Sorry, Hermione," Neville breathed, "Expelliarmus!"

Neville blasted Hermione back. He had to do it. He had to save her.

Hermione flew back, landing on her ass, stunned but not unconscious. The basilisk hovered over Snape, preparing to give its death blow. No . . . no, he couldn't die!

Hercules was fluttering all over the chamber, and there was a piercing cry as Fawkes flew into the chamber and straight for the basilisk, digging his talons into the back of the reptile's head. The basilisk hissed and turned its gaze on the phoenix.

Fawkes stiffened mid-air, and plummeted to the floor, dead.

"Oh no!" Neville hissed as he looked at the unmoving silhouette.

Snape lay on the floor, his chest rising and falling, his breathing labored, feeling as if his very blood were boiling in his veins as the basilisk's deadly venom worked its way toward his heart. He was going to die, and he hadn't even managed to save Hermione.

Tears fell from Hermione's eyes as she desperately tried to think of something. In the old timeline, Fawkes had saved Harry when he was bitten by the basilisk, but now . . . Fawkes was dead. Snape didn't have anyone to save him.

Why, oh why had she come down here? She didn't know this would happen.

The basilisk turned back to Snape, its jaws opening as it eyed the fallen wizard, almost seeming to gloat. It nudged him with its nose, the wizard sliding across the floor, letting out a cry of pain.

Hercules still fluttered about. Hermione's brown eyes fell on him. Its crow could kill the basilisk, but no one could make a rooster crow. The only time one could be sure was . . .

Suddenly, Hermione got an idea.

A brilliant idea.

She whirled her wand around her head, focusing.

"Nocturnis!" she cried with such powerful intent, the entire chamber went black.

Then . . .

"Solarius Orbis!" Hermione cried, pointing her wand at the floor.

A large, burning orb appeared, its light filling the cavern. Slowly, Hermione raised it higher.

Suddenly, Hercules crowed.

Hermione had created a sunrise.

A smaller glow appeared on the floor next to the basilisk, which dropped unceremoniously to the stone floor with a loud thud, dead as dead could be.

Hermione ran to the small fire, and scooped through the ashes, lifting a tiny chick as the darkness lifted and the orb faded.

It was Fawkes, reborn from his own ashes.

It was quite difficult to kill a phoenix.

Carrying the tiny bird carefully, Hermione ran over to Snape, who lay on his back, eyes closed and paler than normal, his breathing labored as the poison did its work.

Hermione pulled back his robes, exposing the nasty wound in his thigh. She held the baby Fawkes over it.

"Cry. Please cry, Fawkes. Save him," she pleaded with the creature.

Fawkes was a chick, but he understood Hermione perfectly. He leaned one eye close to Snape's wound and let three tears fall into it.

Hermione watched as the hole filled in, then the flesh repaired itself, Snape's breathing becoming easier. She let out a sigh of relief and put Fawkes down, sliding up and sitting close to the fallen wizard, tenderly lifting his head and letting it rest on her lap

She stroked his temple gently, her fingertips smoothing his lank black hair.

"It's going to be all right, Professor," she said softly. "Everything's going to be all right."

* * *

A/N: Brilliant Hermione! Whoo, she came through. Luna kind of fizzled out when the basilisk actually appeared, but our Gryffindor was true to her house and saved the day! Yay! Lol. Thanks for reading.


	22. Aftermath

**Chapter 22 Aftermath**

Hermione gently pulled off Snape's pink mask and lifted her own. Neville, Luna and Hagrid walked up, removed their masks and examined the basilisk's corpse.

"It were beautiful," Hagrid breathed as Neville looked at him incredulously.

Luna trailed her hand across the creature's silver scales. They were rather soft and pliant.

"Yes, it was," she agreed, causing Neville to turn and look at her as well.

"Are you both mad? It tried to kill us!" he said, disbelievingly.

"But it was still beautiful," Luna said softly, walking up to its head and gazing down at its sightless yellow eyes. Without life, they were no longer deadly.

Hermione continued to stroke Snape's temple, and tentatively ran her hand over his cheek, jaw and even his large nose, feeling his face. She stared down at him, the memory of what they had done so long ago in his life and so short a time ago in hers washed over the witch, her body flaring for a moment as she held her first lover. Snape wasn't handsome, but if she were to say anything in the chamber were beautiful, it would be the man resting in her lap, the man who was willing to give up his life for her.

She felt like kissing him, but the presence of the others ruined any chance of that, unless she stole one quickly. The Professor would never let her kiss him . . . well not as a student.

Neville, Luna and Hagrid walked on the other side of the basilisk. Hermione looked after them tentatively, then down at Snape.

This was her chance to steal a kiss.

Quickly, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his. They were soft and warm, but unresponsive. She pulled back and her heart nearly stopped. Those black eyes were looking directly at her.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?" he asked her softly, his brow creased.

"Um . . . um, giving you mouth to mouth?" she suggested as Snape struggled up, resting on his elbows.

"Then your technique needs work. You approached it all wrong," he said, sitting up now and looking at the body of the basilisk before turning his head back to her.

"This was your project? Trying to kill yourself fighting a basilisk?" he asked her in a low voice, his face twisted as he tried to hold in his temper. If this had been ANYONE else, he would have had a full-blown conniption fit, complete with a couple of harmless, but nevertheless painful hexes.

"No. My project was to find the Chamber of Secrets and subdue the creature within it," she said, hoping that answer sounded academic enough as Snape rose from the floor and brushed off his robes before lifting them and examining his thigh where he was bitten.

Then he held out his hand and pulled Hermione up, his dark eyes glinting as he looked her over, making sure she had all her parts.

"Your project nearly cost the lives of everyone here, Miss Granger, including my own. How did I survive?" he asked.

"Hermione did it!" Neville said, walking up and coming to Hermione's defense. "She made the rooster crow by creating a fake sunrise! She's brilliant!"

Snape scowled at him.

"I didn't ask how the basilisk died, I asked how I survived, Mr. Longbottom. Basilisk venom is deadly and there's no known antidote," he said to the wizard.

Hermione bent down and picked up Fawkes, who was already a little bigger, his gray down becoming more feather-like and browning slightly.

"Fawkes saved you with his tears," she said, holding him up toward Snape, who bowed to the small bird.

"Thank you, Fawkes," he said sincerely.

The phoenix trilled at him in response.

Snape's dark eyes turned on Luna, who wandered up. She had a basilisk scale in her hand and was twisting it back and forth in the gloom, looking as if she hadn't been in danger at all.

"And Miss Lovegood, what are you, a Head Girl, doing in the midst of this fiasco?" he inquired.

Luna looked up at Snape and was about to tell him she came along for the adventure, when Neville cut in.

"Luna tried to stop us, but we wouldn't listen, so she followed us," Neville replied.

In response, Snape pointed to the two remaining pink masks around the witch's neck.

"So, if she was not part of this madness, then why is she wearing masks that can block out a basilisk?" he purred at him.

"Um . . . er," Neville replied, trying to think of an answer.

"They're mine! I had her hold them when we entered the chamber. She only did it so they wouldn't get in my way," Hermione chirped in.

Luna blinked at both of them, then turned to Professor Snape.

"You know that's not true, don't you, Professor?" Luna said to him quietly.

"Indeed, I do, Miss Lovegood. As virtuous as Gryffindors are purported to be, they'll all lie at the drop of a sickle, albeit for what they consider 'noble' reasons. Albus will have to deal with you concerning this situation. It may be that you lose your position as Head Girl," he replied.

Luna shrugged.

"That's fine," she said shortly.

Hercules was busily pecking and attacking the corpse of the dead basilisk, doing no damage. Finally he stopped, ready to accept accolades for finishing the great monster off. He crooned and strutted about for a minute or two, then flew at Hagrid again, spurs bared. He hadn't forgotten about the cage.

Hagrid let him jump and slash to his little heart's content, not even bothering to yell at him. Hercules was the hero of the day, after all. Snape would be dead and most likely the rest of them too, if not for the rooster and Hermione's quick thinking.

Neville looked at Snape, his own visage pale. From where he was standing, only he could see the vein throbbing tightly in the wizard's neck underneath his black hair, and how tightly his jaw was clamped, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

No matter how calm the Potions master seemed, he was totally pissed off. Neville hoped he could hold it in. An angry Snape was a terror to behold.

"Both of you can count on suitable punishments for this insane act on your parts," he said to Neville and Hermione, "First, one hundred points from Gryffindor . . . apiece . . . for nearly getting me killed."

Neville and Hermione visibly wilted. When they got back to Gryffindor house, most likely they'd be killed by their housemates for a two-hundred point loss.

Snape studied them, then looked at the dead basilisk for a moment, then back at the pair.

"However, you have provided me with a fresh basilisk from which I can harvest rare and useful parts and ingredients worth a small fortune . . . so with that in mind, you've earned Gryffindor three hundred points," he said softly.

Hermione smiled at him gratefully, and the wizard felt his heart swell at bit at the look in her eyes. He was also well aware she had kissed him when she thought he was unconscious. It appeared she did have feelings for him after all. But, he shook off the feeling, clearing his throat and looking stern.

Hermione was just about to thank him, when a familiar voice cut through the gloom.

"Severus? Are you all right?"

It was Albus Dumbledore and several windswept and shaking staff members. Taking that pipe had been an ordeal, and not one of them thought to use the spell Snape had to slow their landing. Madam Sprout was still rubbing her buttocks.

"Yes, Headmaster. We've all survived, and the basilisk is dead," Snape replied, his eyes still on Hermione.

Dumbledore walked forward, followed by the staff members. He examined the basilisk, then looked at Hermione, Neville and Luna. He saw Fawkes in Hermione's hand, and took him gently.

"It appears you've made the ultimate sacrifice again, Fawkes," he said to the chick softly. Fawkes gave him another little trill. Dumbledore smiled and gently stroked Fawkes' head with one long finger before turning his attention back to his students.

"I take it you are the students who breached the chamber?" he asked them.

Neville and Hermione looked at the ground and murmured, "Yes, Headmaster."

Luna simply nodded at him, not looking at all repentant.

"I see. Well, how did you manage to kill the basilisk? Ordinary magic doesn't work well on a creature born of magic. There's a conflict of forces," Albus said.

"Apparently, Miss Granger created a reasonable facsimile of a sunrise, which prompted Hagrid's rooster to crow," Snape replied, gesturing toward the robust bird attacking Hagrid with alacrity. Hercules seemed to have a deep reservoir of energy.

"Brilliant!" Albus exclaimed, smiling at the witch. "Quite an inventive method. We will have to add it to the books. You will be remembered in history for your quick thinking, Miss Granger."

Suddenly Minerva stalked up, her eyes hard as they shifted from Neville to Hermione. She was disheveled by her trip down the pipe.

Albus discreetly moved out of the way a bit as the Gryffindor Head of House swelled up as if about to explode.

"However, I believe there will be some repercussions in the present day," he added as Minerva launched into them.

* * *

After an intense discussion, it was decided that Professor Snape would issue Neville and Hermione their punishments. The Potions master decided they would serve them separately.

Neville's punishment was that he would have to help cut up and harvest the dead basilisk, which was a dirty and rather dangerous job. The organs, scales, skin, venom, eyes and blood were very valuable, and the carcass, very tough.

After the basilisk was harvested, Hermione was to join Professor Snape in his labs every evening to help render the items usable for potions. This meant slicing, dicing, drying, powdering, pickling and storing the items. And there was a lot of basilisk to work with. It had been nearly forty feet long.

Well, it seemed Professor Snape would be spending a lot of time with Hermione Granger, and it was perfectly acceptable. As angry as he was at the witch for risking her life, he was quite pleased that her momentary lack of good sense had brought her under his influence. It couldn't have worked better if he planned it. Besides, he could get an advanced look at what she would be like as an apprentice, and correct her in advance if she made too many mistakes, thus training her up a bit before the fact.

Luna received a simple reprimand, and her basilisk mask was sent to the Ministry for study and possible utilization. When she came of age, she would receive residuals if the design was utilized. Professor Flitwick, her Head of House, was quite proud of his rule-breaking Ravenclaw.

"Just brilliant," he raved after taking fifty points. It was required or he wouldn't have done it.

All three students were considered heroes by their peers, Neville becoming quite popular, with witches hanging on his every word. He had his pick of them if he wanted, and it was quite tempting.

Hermione was also swamped by hangers-on, but grew tired and irritable about being asked to recount the story over and over. It was cutting into her study time. She wasn't used to being the center of attention and quickly decided it wasn't all it was thought to be. She became snappish, refusing to talk about the basilisk any longer.

Her fellow students surmised that her feat had gone to her head, and she thought she was too good to associate with them. So, although Neville remained popular, Hermione was pointedly ignored, which suited her just fine. She could get more accomplished.

Luna told the story so flatly and matter of fact, that people stopped asking her about it because it didn't sound exciting.

"We rode down a pipe, went into the chamber and killed the basilisk," she explained, her blue eyes shining. She smirked slightly as the disappointed questioners walked away. She knew what she was doing.

It didn't take long for peace to return.

"I can't believe they're making such a fuss over Granger and Longbottom," Harry complained to Draco. "They should both be expelled, not seen as heroes."

Draco nodded.

"Yes, but the Board of Governors decided they didn't actually break any rules other than being out after curfew, and that's not an expellable offense," the pureblood said.

"And Luna. I can't believe she actually helped them! She should be stripped of her position. But Dumbledore thought it best to leave her in it, because it was clear removing her wouldn't be a punishment at all. She could take or leave being Head Girl. She has no understanding of power at all," Harry said, shaking his head.

"And that oaf Hagrid has a wand now. Probably thinks himself a proper wizard," Draco hissed, frowning. "It's all just sickening. At least Snape gave them what for. I saw Neville leaving the second floor bathroom one evening, coming up from the chambers. He was filthy, stunk to high heaven and was absolutely green around the gills. He has to help cut up the basilisk's body, and I heard Snape is making him do the majority of the work. Then Granger has to help Snape render the ingredients. That's nasty business, and basilisk blood is very poisonous. Maybe she'll get some on her and get sick."

Harry sat in silence on his bed for a moment, then said, "But I wonder how they found the chamber, Draco? Both Neville and Hermione claim they stumbled across it, but I don't believe either of them. And Luna won't say anything about it really."

Draco shrugged.

"I don't think we'll ever know, Harry, but what bothers me is that at the end of the year, you know Dumbles is going to give their house extra points for killing the basilisk. We might lose the cup this year," he said with a frown.

"It's not fair," Harry sighed. "It's just not fair."

* * *

"Hey Neville, I know everybody's getting wood over you and Granger nearly getting killed by the basilisk, but I was wondering if you used the map?" Ron Weasley said to Neville about a week after their adventure.

"Uh . . . yeah, I did," Neville said, hesitating slightly.

He was in the Common Room with Hermione, studying. Hermione looked up at Ron and shook her head as the redhead rubbed his hands together delightedly.

"So, you made the Pensieve then?" Ron pressed, hoping for an excellent wanking session.

"Ah, no . . . but I can go do it now," Neville said, rising from the table and heading up the stairs. Ron had provided a small Pensieve as well. It was in Neville's room.

Ron sat down in Neville's seat and looked at Hermione.

"What are you studying?" he asked the witch, who frowned slightly as she looked up from her Advanced Arithmancy book.

"Can't you read?" she snapped at him. The title was right there.

"Yes, but I wanted you to talk to me," Ron said, his blue eyes drifting over her. "You never want to talk to me, Hermione. I try to get you to talk to me all the time. You treat me as if I don't exist."

Hermione was tempted to tell him as far as she was concerned, he didn't. Ron was cute enough, but he wasn't into anything she was. They had nothing in common other than being able to use magic, and that wasn't enough.

"Ron, we move in different circles," she said.

Ron snorted.

"You don't move in any circles, Hermione. All you do is study with Neville, and even Neville has other friends. You just stay to yourself all the time. Don't you ever have any fun?" he asked her.

"Yes, I have fun. Learning is fun," Hermione snapped back at him. "I enjoy discovering new things."

Ron studied her. He really had a crush on Hermione although he went out with Lavender.

"Hermione, come riding with me tonight. I can show you new things," he said to her.

Hermione put her book down.

"Ride with you? On a broom?" she asked him.

"Yeah. You'd be all right. I'm a Quidditch player. I could sleep on my broom and not crash," he said to her.

"Don't you go out with Lavender?" Hermione asked him, scowling.

"Yeah, but I'm ready to move on to bigger, better things," he said with a smile.

"Well, you won't be moving on to ME, Ronald Weasley. Honestly, you have some nerve asking me out when you're involved with another witch. That's exactly why I wouldn't give you the time of day. You're a bloody, heartless git, and I hope Lavender realizes it and dumps you on your freckled arse! Now get away from me," Hermione said to him, drawing her wand.

Ron rose, angry now himself.

"You ought to be glad anyone wants to do anything with you, you frigid, stuck-up . . . cow!" he hissed at her, pissed she rejected him so blatantly.

"Cow? Why you arrogant . . ."

Hermione sent a stunner at Ron, but he leapt out of the way, pulling out his own wand and firing one back at Hermione, who blocked it, leaping out of her chair. The other students in the Common Room dove for cover as the hexes flew.

"Hey! What's going on?" Neville cried from the top of the landing as Hermione shot a bat bogey at Ron and it plastered itself to his face, the wizard clawing at the sticky, mucousy, amoeba-like thing, tearing away chunks.

"Hermione, what happened?" Neville asked her as Ron stumbled about, the other Gryffindors laughing.

"We had an argument. I settled it," Hermione huffed, grabbing up her books and heading up the stairs to her room before Ron recovered.

Finally, a sputtering Ron got all the bogey off, Scourgifying his face and cursing Hermione soundly as Neville looked at him with raised eyebrows. When the redhead calmed down, he handed him the Pensieve and the Marauder's map..

"Thanks," Ron said, taking it ungraciously and heading up the stairs to his room, Neville looking after him with a smirk. Before he saw Ron tangling with Hermione, he felt a little bad that Ron wasn't getting what he expected. But now . . . he hoped he pissed his pants.

Ron quickly set up for his wanking session. He stripped down buck naked, made a little tent of his bedcovers for privacy, poured a bit of mineral oil into his hand and left his wand nearby for Scourgifying afterwards. He had the Pensieve under the covers with him. He lay on his back, gripped his cock in one hand, then stuck his finger into the Pensieve.

Immediately, he found himself in a gloomy cavern, a huge statue standing before him. The mouth of the statue was open and Ron, who was naked in the Pensieve, watched in horror as the basilisk flowed over the lip and snaked its way down to the floor. Since this was a Pensieve memory and Neville actually got a look at the dead basilisk, this was no silhouette of the creature, but the creature itself.

"Arrrrrgh!" Ron screamed, running.

Down in the Common Room, everyone looked up as Ron's scream reverberated through the tower, including Neville.

"Was that Weasley yelling?" Dean Thomas asked, his brows furrowed.

"I think so," Neville replied, returning to his studies.

* * *

A/N: lol. Poor Ron. Thanks for reading.


	23. Hermione's Service

**Chapter 23 Hermione's Service**

Myrtle was sitting in her stall, reliving her part in helping to rescue the students. It was a small role, but an important one. No one would have known Hermione, Luna and Neville were down in the chamber. She saved their lives. Now she had something other to focus on than her early death. She was a hero.

Suddenly the door opened.

"Hey thar, Myrtle! Yah in 'here?" Hagrid called. Behind him were several glum looking students with tools, buckets, mops, scrapers and more.

Myrtle stuck her head out the stall, through the closed door.

"Hagrid? What's going on?" she asked the half-giant, who gave her a whiskery smile.

"Jes' want ter warn yah tha' its goin' ter be noisy in 'ere fer a few days. We're fixin' tha place up, orders of Dumbledore," Hagrid replied.

Myrtle's eyes grew even larger as the students got to work, removing the doors on the stalls, taking down the spotted mirror, scraping down the chipped sinks, toilets and woodwork. These were students assigned detention with Hagrid and he was putting them to good use, not allowing them to use any magic pursuant to Snape's directives. He had supplied most of the workers. Naturally, most of them were from Gryffindor.

Myrtle watched as Hagrid himself caulked the piping, shouldering his bulk into the tiny stalls and under sinks, groaning and stretching.

It took several days, but when the makeover was completed, Myrtle's bathroom was beautiful. There was even a little table with lotion and fresh flowers on it, and a cushioned mahogany bench for sitting on. It was bright and airy, and Myrtle's stall was blocked off with a little blue and bronze rope. On the gleaming door was a bronze plaque that read:

"In Loving Memory of Myrtle Tuttlesberry."

Students began to use the bathroom again, and Myrtle became quite popular since she no longer moaned and groaned, feeling sorry for herself.

And, best of all, no one teased her about her glasses.

* * *

When Neville saw Ron the next morning, he expected the redhead to be furious with him. Instead, Ron greeted him with a big smile.

"I guess you didn't really need the map for a shag," he said to Neville, who shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Ron. But I couldn't tell you what we were up to," Neville replied. "I didn't have a shag memory to give you, so I just gave you my memories of what happened with the basilisk.

"I know. It's all right. But that basilisk scared the shit out of me, until I realized I couldn't be hurt. Then, I just watched the action. Wow! You were something else . . . and Hermione . . . my gods, she was just brilliant, creating a sunrise so the rooster would crow, then saving Snape with Fawkes. Both of you are real heroes," Ron said sincerely.

"Thanks," Neville said reddening a little.

Ron sobered, then looked around the Common Room to see if anyone were listening in on them.

"Neville, you know . . . I really like Hermione," he said, "but it's like she hates me. She won't give me the time of day."

"Well, trying to blast her off her feet doesn't help," Neville said, his eyes hardening a bit.

"I know. I just got mad because she turned me down flat," Ron told him.

Neville snorted.

"You go out with Lavender, Ron. How did you expect her to react? You wanted to cheat on the witch you have. In case you didn't know, witches usually like their wizards unattached when they ask them out," Neville said to him, walking up the entrance now, heading for breakfast. Hermione had told him to go along without her. She'd be down later.

Ron stayed with him.

"Well, I don't want to be witchless. If I dump Lavender, and Hermione won't go out with me, then I'll be out of luck," the redhead said.

"Well, if you like her, Ron, you'd take that chance . . . but I don't think you have much of one. Dueling her last night was a big mistake. Hermione doesn't let things go easily," Neville replied.

"I'll apologize," Ron said. "I'll tell her I'm sorry for calling her a frigid, stuck-up cow. But she hexed first."

Neville shook his head. Ron had more of a chance of hitting the Wizard's Lottery than getting Hermione to forgive him after that remark. They took the shifting stairwells down to the second floor, took the narrow stairwell to the first, then walked down the marble staircase to the ground floor. They were approaching the Great Hall when suddenly a chorus of female voices chirped, "Hi, Neville!"

Neville looked to his right and saw a group of Hufflepuff witches smiling at him.

"Hi," he replied, reddening a bit.

They all giggled as he continued on, Ron scowling back at the witches.

"What am I? Invisible?" he grumped, then looked at Neville. "I bet you have your pick of witches now, Neville. Anyone on the to-shag list?"

"No," he said, "and even if I were interested in a witch that way, I wouldn't tell you. You'd be begging for another Pensieve."

Ron smirked as Neville pulled open the doors to the Great Hall and entered.

"Well, I wouldn't need a Pensieve you know. All you'd have to do is put in a good word and I'd get a little myself. Everyone loves a hero, and I'm sure a witch or two would take your recommendation to heart," Ron said as Neville sat down at the table, pulling a plate of bacon toward him.

Ron sat down next to him, grabbing a doughnut off the closest plate.

"Ron, you're a pig, you know that? In one breath, you're telling me how much you like Hermione . . . in your next breath, you're telling me you want me to put in a word for you for a shag with some other witch. You're absolutely mental."

"It's hormones," Ron said, biting into the doughnut. "I think I'm producing too much testosterone or something."

"I don't doubt it," Neville said, scraping some eggs into his plate. "You have to have a huge set of balls to act the way you do."

Ron was about to reply in the affirmative when a pair of arms wrapped around his neck from behind, pulling his head back into a warm body.

"Hi, Won-Won," Lavender gushed, kissing his cheek. "I missed you on the way down to breakfast. You know I like to walk with you."

"Sorry. I was talking with Neville," Ron said.

Lavender smiled at Neville.

"Hi, Neville, " she said, releasing Ron and sitting beside him. She picked up a napkin and tucked it under his chin, then started collecting food for him.

Small portions.

Lavender didn't let Ron eat like he liked when she was around. She was afraid he'd choke to death, and claimed to have seen his demise by food "in the stars."

She was a great Trelawney fan, and was one of the few students who actually took the teacher's Advance Divination course.

Ron frowned slightly as she began to cut his food into smaller pieces with a knife. When she finished, she speared a bit of egg with a fork and held it up before his face.

"Open up, Won-Won," she said.

Ron obediently opened his mouth, a resigned look on his face. He took it because Lavender would put out sometimes. He didn't want to mess that up.

Neville shook his head slightly. Lavender would drive him absolutely mad.

Lavender's appearance effectively ended their conversation. Neville finished his food and headed for class.

* * *

Hermione caught up on her studies while Neville worked with Professor Snape. She also caught up on the old timeline via her dreams, details coming in more clarity. It was hard to believe that Harry was so different, so much kinder and friendlier in the other past. It was harder to believe that she had loved him so much as a friend.

If not for Hermione, both he and his parents would be dead now. Harry James Potter owed her and Professor Snape so much, but would never know it. Ron was very much like he was in this timeline, but he was a loyal friend and Hermione was shocked to learn that they liked each other, and had a fight when she went to the ball with Victor Krum because he was jealous. He was also very brave in the other timeline, someone who could be counted on when the chips were down.

Maybe she was too hard on him. She'd never given him a real chance in this timeline. But gah! He was such a randy little bastard. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion her former self had no idea about this side of Ronald Weasley. Of course he would hide it from her.

Dumbledore was much friendlier too, and doted on Harry. In this timeline, they only spoke in passing. And Draco, well, he was a dick in any timeline, but in the old one he was changed into a ferret by a very different and rather broken Auror, Alastor Moody.

Snape. Dear gods, he was a bastard in the other timeline. He seemed angry all the time, and never smiled like he did in this timeline. Nor did he speak much and seemed to spend much of his time lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting to catch them doing wrong. She had even set his robes on fire when she was a first year, thinking he was trying to kill Harry during a Quidditch game. One thing was clear, in the alternate past he treated her with disdain, if not downright hatred.

Everything had been so different. Professor Quirrel had died, Harry's godfather was imprisoned Ginny Weasley had been taken to the chamber by the basilisk and nearly died. Dementors had nearly killed Harry, and someone named Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Susan Bones' relatives had been killed and the Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory as well. There was a house elf named Dobby who belonged to the Malfoys, but she had never seen the creature in this present. Actually, she didn't give house elves much thought at all. But in the other timeline, she had tried to free them, and they didn't like it.

What came back to her with the most clarity, was her night with young Snape seen through her own eyes, rather than the Pensieve. He had been seventeen when they shagged, younger than she was. But he was definitely experienced.

"I robbed the cradle," Hermione thought as she turned over in the bed and lay on her stomach. She hadn't once taken the Dreamless draught.

Her dream memories didn't take over her present life, they were more like a story that never happened, with the exception of her encounter with the young Snape. Still, Hermione couldn't help feeling a twinge of sadness when she saw Harry now, so arrogant and stuck on himself, and remembered how close they had been. Maybe there was still something of that old Harry in him, but she doubted if it would ever come to the fore. His life was so different now. He was a Slytherin, had a different circle of friends, and a different history. No, he was who he was now.

However, when Ron came to her and apologized, Hermione accepted it, to Neville's open-mouthed surprise.

"What was that all about?" he asked Hermione as he walked her down to the dungeons. His part of the detentions with Snape was over, and he had learned quite a bit about basilisk anatomy in the process. Now it was Hermione's turn to enter the serpent's den.

"You forgave him?"

"Yes, I did. Because . . . well, because we were friends in the other timeline. He was an idiot then too, but a loyal friend and we cared about each other," she replied.

Neville shook his head.

"He's sweet on you, you know," Neville said quietly. "I believe he really means it, too."

Hermione knew it as well, but her heart belonged to a certain older wizard.

"It wouldn't work out, Neville. We're too different," she responded.

Neville took a deep breath.

"Hermione, you really need to get out here and find someone, at least test the waters," he said to her.

Hermione snorted.

"You should talk," she muttered at him as they walked down the narrow staircase to the dungeon level. "You're gah-gah over Luna and won't even ask her out."

Neville reddened.

"I've decided I'm going to do it the next time I see her," he said resolutely.

The influx of interested witches had given Neville a bit more courage, although he didn't take much advantage of them. He still wanted Luna, and didn't need any complications such as angry witches he played around with ruining his chances.

"But at least I like someone, Hermione. You've never expressed an interest in anyone. Have you even been kissed?" he asked her.

Neville had experienced a few chaste kisses playing "Spin the Wand" a couple of times. They had been very nice.

"Yes, I've been kissed. Victor Krum kissed me," she shot back at Neville.

"That doesn't count. That was a ball and anyway, Victor lives too far away to have a relationship with," he told her.

"And there's too many witches interested in him," Hermione added.

She didn't doubt the Bulgarian seeker plowed through them all like water. He was very physical after all, and had hands whose slippery gripping power could only be rivaled by the Giant Squid's tentacles. He had quite the handprint on his cheek at the end of that night.

"But do you see what I mean, Hermione? And . . . and I'm concerned about you. We're graduating and I'm going to be pursuing my studies in Herbology and we're not going to see each other as much. I hate the idea of you not having anyone . . . close," the Gryffindor said, his eyes full of concern as he looked at his friend.

Hermione stopped and looked up at Neville.

"Oh, Neville. That's so sweet. But you don't have to worry. I'm going to take an apprenticeship with Professor Snape, so I'll be very busy," she assured him.

"Working with Snape isn't having a social life, Hermione," Neville said to her. "Actually, Snape doesn't seem to have one either, so he's certainly not going to be . . ."

"That's Professor Snape, Mr. Longbottom," a silken voice said.

Both Hermione and Neville looked up to see Snape standing in the corridor, his dark eyes resting on them. Neville went ashen.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for discussing a life you know nothing about, Mr. Longbottom," the Potions master added. "My life. Now, come along, Miss Granger."

Snape turned and with a billow of robes, entered his office.

Hermione turned to Neville.

"I'd better go," she said to him softly. "Sorry about that."

"I'm lucky that's all he took," Neville replied. "I'll see you later."

Neville turned and hurried up the corridor.

Hermione took a deep breath, then walked down the damp dungeon corridor, turning into Snape's office. The wizard was standing in front of his desk with his arms folded, waiting for her.

"Close the door behind you," he said softly.

Hermione did so, her heart fluttering a bit at the command in his voice. They were alone and would be undisturbed.

"Follow me," he said, turning and walking through a short corridor that linked to the classroom, past the Potions store and into a lab, in which several cauldrons boiled and bubbled.

Hermione instantly brought her robes to her nose, trying to cover it from the stench. She coughed and Snape looked back at her with a smirk.

"You'll get used to the smell, Miss Granger. It would be best to take it in fully rather than prolong the inevitable," he told her. "Rendering basilisk flesh is a smelly business."

Hermione lowered her robes, her eyes tearing.

Snape studied her for a moment, then said, "I need you to strip down to your bra and knickers, Miss Granger."

* * *

A/N: Ah, we make it to "detention." Yay for Myrtle. They fixed up her bathroom and gave her a plaque. Nice. Thanks for reading.


	24. Detention with Snape

**Chapter 24 Detention with Snape**

"What?" Hermione gasped, sucking in a huge lungful of stench in the process.

"I need you to strip down to your bra and knickers, over there," Snape said, pointing to a tall, black dressing partition Hermione hadn't noticed. An oddly colored robe was folded over the top of it, and silvery boots rested on the floor next to it.

"That is a specially designed protective garb," the wizard explained. "Working with basilisk can be dangerous because the fluids are particularly caustic. It will burn holes in your regular robes and shoes if it splashes on you. And it will become quite hot in here once the lab door is closed, so in order to be comfortable, you need to wear the minimal amount of clothing underneath. You will find a pair of matching gloves on a chair as well. Use the chair to hold your robes and undergarments."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, although she felt a tiny pang of disappointment. For a moment it seemed as if Professor Snape was showing interest in playing catch-up with the timeline. For Hermione, it seemed as if their encounter had only happened a few weeks ago, while for Snape . . . . it had been decades.

Snape wanted to make sure Hermione was well-protected. Poor Neville was only given a very thick pair of dragonhide gloves, and it was hard to move his fingers in them, they were so stiff. He'd return to Gryffindor tower with holes in his robes and his shoes, having to repair them nightly. But, Neville was a wizard, he could take a bit of pain.

Now, Hermione was a different story. No pain for her. The robes and gloves were actually made of basilisk skin, which guaranteed protection against any substance created from the flesh and parts of the beast. It could breathe and also repel the brunt of any magical spell cast at it. Snape had carefully scraped and tanned the skin himself, then had it picked up and hand sewn by Madam Markin. The fasteners were made from the basilisk's bones, polished and shellacked. He planned to give them to her as a gift when her detention was completed. Of course, it wasn't really a gift. He would have had to provide protective robes for her as his apprentice anyway, but he'd seem more magnanimous this way.

Snape was very, very calculating. But to his credit, most robes were just regular ones charmed with a magical version of Scotchguard. Robes made out of basilisk skin were extremely rare and nearly priceless because of this. Madam Markin offered him a pretty Galleon to procure a couple of yards of the rare material.

Snape made her pretty up her offer significantly before agreeing to sell her three yards. The amount he charged her was slightly more than a year's salary. He had taken more of the skin to a magical cobbler, who tanned it and created Hermione's boots, which were knee high.

The Potions master wanted to make sure the witch was well-protected. He watched as Hermione walked behind the partition, then began to check the cauldrons as she changed into the magical robes and boots, doing his best not to look back as she draped robes, jeans, t-shirt and socks over the partition, pulling down her lab clothing. She put on the basilisk robes, light glinting off the softened scales prettily. She then pulled on the boots.

Wow. They felt so light. She had expected protective clothing to feel confining. She pulled on the gloves. They were thin and flexible. Neville must have been exaggerating when he claimed the Potions master gave him thick, heavy gloves that would barely bend.

Hermione stepped out from behind the partition, the robes glinting softly in the torchlight.

"How do I look?" she asked Snape, who turned around and studied her with disguised approval.

"You look as if your hair will catch on fire," he said, eyeing the curly riot of brown hair pointedly. "Tie it up. There are rubber bands in the right top drawer of my desk."

Hermione walked over to a desk in the corner of the lab, and pulled open the drawer. It was a jumble of clips, rubberbands, quill tips and other small items. As she shifted the stuff around, she noticed something at the bottom of the draw. It looked like a yellowed, photograph. It hadn't been taken very good care of. Something sticky was spilled on it. She pulled it out.

It was a photograph, and there on the picture was young Snape, looking sober as a redheaded young woman stood next to him, smiling and pushing on his shoulder, obviously trying to make him smile as well. Finally, he gave a tiny smirk. Then the picture returned to the beginning, a sober Snape and a witch forcing him to smile. He looked even younger than he did when she met him. Maybe about fifteen or so.

The woman looked vaguely familiar. She had red hair and green eyes.

"What's taking so long, Miss Granger?" Snape asked her.

"Oh, I'm looking at an old picture I found in the drawer. It's you when you were young and some girl with red hair," she said to him

Snape stirred the cauldron a bit slower.

"Throw it away," he said softly, but there was a hint of venom in his voice.

"What? Why? It's a picture of you and a friend. Why would you want to throw it away?" Hermione asked the wizard.

Snape turned to her, scowling, then walked over and plucked the picture out of her hand.

"I thought I'd gotten rid of this ages ago," he growled, "it means nothing to me."

He dropped it into the wastepaper basket without hesitation.

"Now, tie up your hair and come along. You are going to pickle parts this evening. It is very delicate work and the organs under stasis cannot be exposed to air while being transferred to the various solutions. The stasis spell has to be removed once the jars are sealed and put up to boil."

Hermione did as the wizard asked, tying up her hair and following him. She couldn't help but wonder who the young witch in the photograph was. Obviously, they had been friends once, but by the Potions master's reaction, it was a friendship that existed no longer. Hermione found that a bit sad, particularly when she thought about Harry in the alternate timeline.

Snape produced several different solutions, carefully pouring them into stone jars and labeling them. The cauldrons were also made of stone, with a bronze overlay to spread the heat evenly. Basilisk seemed to react to everything except stone. So it took a bit more time to render and brew with the ingredient.

He showed Hermione how to purify the outside of the organs under stasis, then drop them into the stone jars, placing a seal on top of the open mouth, then screwing on a cleverly made stone cap. Then, she removed the stasis spell and using a pair of padded tongs, she placed the stone jar into a regular, but huge cauldron simmering over a fire at the back of the lab. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her hand when she finished the first one. Those stone jars were heavy.

"Miss Granger, you need to get into the habit of carrying a cloth with you to wipe your brow," Snape said to her, producing one and handing it to her. "Now, you must Scourgify and purify your entire person. It is good practice to do this every time you switch tasks, using the magic on yourself, your utensils and your workspace."

Hermione blinked at him. There were so many tasks when working with potions. Half her time would be spent Scourgifying.

"Cleanliness is next to successfulness, Miss Granger. Most potions are ruined by contamination. If you develop the habit of consistently keeping everything clean and purified, it soon becomes second nature. If you are to be my apprentice, you must learn how to do this," he told her softly.

Hermione pulled out her wand and Scourgified and purified herself under Snape's watchful eye, then put her wand away, walking over to the counter, about to pick up a large piece of basilisk liver.

"Ah, you must also Scourgify the work area, Miss Granger, as well as all utensils. Some dust or other foreign object might have landed on it while you were attending the cauldron. That is why we keep everything covered. Later, after you've learned to do your cleansing automatically, you may skip this step by placing a magical blanket over your work area while you are away from it, thus protecting it from contamination.

Hermione pulled out her wand and Scourgified and purified the area, then got back to work. Snape hovered over her for three hours, constantly reminding her to clean and Scourgify. It became very annoying, but what was more annoying was that he was correct every time. She only managed to get a few jars into the cauldron before it was time to depart. Her head felt tight, and she was extremely stressed out.

The Potions master watched as she stalked behind the partition and changed back into her clothes. She had lost her initial excitement. Well, she would. Potions was work, no matter how much one thought they enjoyed it. Working with him in private was much different than in the classroom. He was exacting in class, but in private, Snape was positively anal. And that was what made him such a fine Potions master.

"You don't look very satisfied with your night's work, Miss Granger," the wizard said to her gently.

Hermione looked at Snape, her eyes rather wet.

"I was so slow and you had to keep correcting me," Hermione said sullenly.

She was used to working quickly and being next to perfect at everything.

Snape's lip quirked.

"Welcome to the real world, Miss Granger. The world of work. I expected you to be slow and in need of guidance and correction. It will be that way for at least a year under my instruction. You are not in a classroom now. In class, the standards although strict are not exacting. If you wish to become a Potions mistress, you will need to learn patience and restraint. You will have to be able to take correction without feeling as if you've failed. Everyone has to start at the beginning, Miss Granger, and you . . . are at the beginning again. Despite your marks in my class, you are simply entry level and will be that way for quite a while," Snape said to her softly, his black eyes glittering at her.

"So, you are going to have to find a way to dull that innate Gryffindor pride and humble yourself. There is a saying that states: 'the first element of greatness is fundamental humbleness.' You are going to have to learn that and live by it if you wish to excel."

Hermione blinked at him.

"That's not the whole quote, Professor. If you are going to use quotes on me, at least say them in entirety. That quote is by Margot Asquith, and the complete quotation is as follows:

"The first element of greatness is fundamental humbleness (this should not be confused with servility); the second is freedom from self; the third is intrepid courage, which, taken in its widest interpretation, generally goes with truth; and the fourth /the power to love /although I have put it last, is the rarest."

Snape studied the witch staring back at him with a bit of challenge in her eyes and shook his head slightly.

"It is going to take some effort on my part to work with such a know-it-all, Miss Granger. It is my sincere hope that you will temper your . . . predisposition to prove what you know, keeping in mind I am not interested in knowing what you know, but in teaching you what I know. That is the purpose of being my apprentice," he told her, his eyes slightly narrowed. "If you are still interested, that is. My constant correction might have cooled your ardor, considering you are someone used to 'getting everything right' the first time."

Hermione scowled, affronted that he thought she couldn't take a bit of hard work and correction.

"Yes, I'm still interested," she said a bit huffily. "I can learn from my mistakes with the best of them."

Snape quirked his lip at her.

"How about with the worst of them, Miss Granger? I assure you there will be times you won't think you can do anything right. Our relationship as master/apprentice can become rather strained. There will be times you'll feel like little more than a servant, or even . . . a house elf. Do you think you could stand that, Miss Granger? Not having your brilliance acknowledged . . . or your ego . . . stroked? There will be no accolades from me when you do something difficult correctly. You will simply be doing what you are supposed to do. There will be times you're going to think I'm abusing you, taking advantage of your service . . . times when you will become so angry you'll want to walk away," the Potions master said, his eyes hard now.

"If you walk away from me, Miss Granger, you will not get a second chance. But if you have the fortitude and determination to excel, then I guarantee you will leave my tutalege in four years as one of the premiere Potions mistresses in Wizarding society. But it will be your choice in the end. I only hope that my faith in your abilities is not misplaced. I have never taken on an apprentice because I never found anyone that I believed could see it through . . . until you. How good a Mistress you become will be a direct reflection on me, Miss Granger, and I could be made a laughingstock in my field if I produce a less than stellar protégé. So I am invested as well as you."

Hermione stared at the Potions master. She never realized just how much he believed in her. Professor Snape didn't seem the kind of man who would just open himself up to ridicule. There was an element of deep trust here, and she could feel it as she looked at him. Her eyes softened significantly.

"Ah, let me go and get your pass to return to Gryffindor Tower," Snape said suddenly, billowing out of the lab rather quickly.

Softening eyes on Hermione Granger wasn't a good thing for a wizard who was already wrestling with his ethics. Hermione looked after him, then walked over to the wastepaper basket, pulling out the photograph. She studied it for a moment, Snape's somber visage. It seemed kind of wrong that he was standing next to someone so bubbly and . . . well . . . pushy. If Hermione had been taking the photograph with him, she would have let him take it as he was.

Hermione looked back at the lab door to see if he was returning. He wasn't. The witch then folded the picture so the girl wasn't visible, then creased it and tore her half off, letting it drop back into the wastebasket. She looked at young Snape, first sober, then smirking slightly.

She heard the wizard returning and quickly stuck the torn photo in her pocket.

"Here you go, Miss Granger," Snape said, handing her a small piece of parchment that would get her by Filch and anyone else patrolling the castle.

He led her to the classroom and open its door on the dungeon corridor.

"Now, return directly to Gryffindor Tower. That pass will self-destruct in fifteen minutes, and you will be on your own if you aren't safely in your house by then. Good night, Miss Granger. You did a fair job tonight . . . for a newbie."

"A newbie?" Hermione exclaimed, once again affronted.

She might not know everything about method and application, but she certainly was no newbie. She could spout off the ingredients and brewing methods of over one hundred potions, by heart! That had to count for something!

Snape looked at her with an arched eyebrow, waiting for her to defend herself in the true, self-important Gryffindor manner. As much as he appreciated the witch, she still had that one major flaw . . . being a Gryffindor.

Well, no one was perfect.

Hermione realized he was waiting for her to go on the defensive, and decided immediately not to do it. Instead, she gave him a gracious "thank you," and departed the classroom. Snape stepped out of the door to watch her walk to the end of the corridor and ascend the stairs. He closed the classroom, a slight smile on his face.

The witch was truly exceptional. He wisely told her that being his apprentice wouldn't be a picnic. At least she'd know it wasn't anything personal when he came down on her. He wanted to win Hermione over, but he also wanted her well prepared for her chosen field, even if she didn't return his affections when the time came to make them known.

There were a lot of handsome, young wizards out there, and it was very possible one might turn her head. If that were the case, he didn't intend to interfere. He wanted Hermione to come to him because it was in her heart to do so, not because he hexed away all his competitors, although that wasn't an unpleasant thought.

But it was a flawed approach. There would always be more interested young wizards no matter how many he frightened off. If Hermione desired him and only him, then the hordes of waiting wizards would have no influence.

In his idea of a perfect world, that's exactly how it would be.

Snape made one more cursory check of the cauldrons, then retired, feeling it had been quite a good night.

* * *

Hermione lay in her bed, running a finger over the picture of Snape, remembering how it felt to touch his face so intimately in the Chamber of Secrets. He had acted the proper teacher tonight. She wondered if he ever thought about their night together. She had thought he was attracted to her the night he revealed she had indeed gone back into the past, but maybe what she thought was attraction was just his being uncomfortable at having to discuss something so intimate.

Maybe . . . maybe he thought their time had passed.

Hermione looked at the picture again, those dark eyes and his sober expression.

"Our time hasn't passed," she said to the photo softly. "In fact, it's barely begun."

* * *

In his sparsely furnished bedroom, Severus Snape tossed and turned in his bed, once again haunted by his memories of a scantily clad witch appearing in his bedroom, and taking her thoroughly.

But this time, he was no overzealous, impatient seventeen year old.

And she was no virgin.

* * *

A/N: At last, some Snape/Hermione interaction. Now, I KNOW you all didn't think Snape had anything inappropriate in mind when he told her to strip down to her bra and knickers, did you? No. Of course not. ;) Anyway, thanks for reading. We're going to have some transitory chapters next, so we can move to the next phase . . . Hermione graduating and becoming accessible. Yum!


	25. Hermione's Quandry

**Chapter 25 Hermione's Quandary  
**  
A month passed, and it was now mid-December. The Christmas Ball was coming up as well as holiday vacation. Hermione was still working with Snape, not even a quarter of the ingredients prepared yet. And it was no picnic indeed as Snape stayed on her, correcting her methods constantly, even redoing some of her work. She nearly burst into tears several times when he disposed of ingredients she had unwittingly contaminated.

"Crying doesn't help, Miss Granger, focus does," the wizard said.

Snape never yelled at her for her errors. He saved that for his students in class. But he had a way of sighing with disappointment that was even worse as far as Hermione was concerned.

"I see we're going to have to go back over the basics, Miss Granger. Now, pay attention this time."

Hermione felt terrible because everything from the basilisk was so very valuable. One night after Snape had to throw away a bit of ill-ground bladder, Hermione suddenly asked him why he just didn't assign her to something else, rather than let her ruin such valuable ingredients.

"When you become my apprentice and make errors, I will not be able to simply 'assign you something else.' I am going to have to work with you as I am doing now," he told the stricken witch, who wiped at her eyes with her cloth. "I am teaching you. If you knew how to do everything correctly, you wouldn't need a teacher."

"I should have caught on by now. I'm ruining so much of your ingredients," she said, looking up at him, her eyes wet.

Snape gave her a small smile.

"Perhaps if I had to actually purchase this basilisk, which by the way I would have never been able to do, I might be more upset about what is being lost in processing it. However, since you provided me with the beast for free, I can take the losses. What we do glean will still be priceless, Miss Granger. And remember this, once you come into your own, your abilities will be far more valuable than any ingredient. The most expensive ingredients mean nothing in the hands of one who cannot utilize them. So dry your tears, Miss Granger and get back to work."

Hermione couldn't believe how patient the wizard was with her. He never once lost his temper despite his reputation for giving incompetents what for.

But Snape didn't think she was incompetent. And there was the rub.

But Hermione's nightly sessions with Snape were showing up in her everyday life, and to others, not in a positive way. Neville was especially concerned.

"Hermione, what's wrong with you?" Neville asked her as they left Advanced Potions. Luna was waiting for Neville at the dungeon entrance and fell in step with them quietly, her hand entwining with his. She waved to Hermione, but didn't say anything. Hermione didn't wave back or even acknowledge her.

True to his word, Neville had asked Luna out, and her response was, "kiss me," which Neville did. It was a nice kiss, but no tongue. It lasted about ten seconds. When he pulled away, Luna made a big production of apparently tasting his kiss, then requested one more, which Neville gladly provided.

Luna blinked up at him, then said, "okay Neville, I'll go out with you. I just wanted to make sure I'd like you kissing me first. I do."

So they officially became a couple.

Luna was only sixteen, and Neville treated her accordingly, having no intentions on pressuring the witch into anything. But he discovered a lot about her, such as the crazy things she seemed to do actually weren't crazy at all, once you knew what was behind them. But Neville always believed Luna had reasons for acting the way she did, and was delighted to find out he was right. Of course, when the pair of them were spotted walking through the castle, both dragging their hands along the corridor walls, everyone thought Luna's looniness was rubbing off on the Gryffindor. Even Hermione was concerned until Neville explained they were looking for keystones that opened secret passages and showed her one or two of Luna's lesser discoveries.

"And all those weird items she wears, bottle tops and other things, they're charms she's working on. She's frugal and doesn't spend Galleons on materials in the beginning, and just uses what's around. If she's wearing more than one, they're at different degrees of experimentation. She keeps them with her to work on during idle times," he told Hermione.

Hermione was glad she spent her evenings with Professor Snape, because Neville began spending a lot of time with Luna, as was to be expected. Hermione couldn't help feeling she was losing her best friend, and it showed by how curt she was with the Ravenclaw.

Luna just gave Hermione room and tried not to be obtrusive when she was in her and Neville's company. Luna had always lived in her own world and was comfortable with being alone and not having very close friends, but Neville seemed to be Hermione's only friend. And now, he was showing a marked interest in someone else.

"Nothing's wrong with me, Neville," Hermione replied, irritation in her voice.

Since starting her detentions with Snape, Hermione's work habits in Advanced Potions changed. Up to this point, she had always been the one who finished brewing first in the class, capping her bottles and placing them on Professor Snape's desk with satisfaction, her brown eyes scanning the still-working class as she returned to her desk, smug and hands folded.

But now, she finished with the last half of the class, her brewing slowed significantly. Even Neville beat her by as much as fifteen minutes.

"I think you're becoming neurotic, Hermione," Neville told her. "You clean your workspace obsessively, and it's slowing you down. Your marks are going to suffer. What's wrong?"

"My marks are going to be fine," Hermione snapped as Luna dreamily walked beside them as if she didn't hear the conversation. Her presence seemed to piss Hermione off more.

Neville left it alone, deciding to talk about something else. Unfortunately it was something equally upsetting to Hermione.

"You're coming to the Christmas Ball, right?" he asked Hermione a bit contritely.

Usually, they went together as friends, but this final year . . . he was taking Luna.

"I don't know," Hermione replied, frowning. "Listen, I'm going to go, Neville. I have studying to do."

Instead of heading to supper, Hermione went to the library and tried to lose herself in studying alone until it was time to go to Professor Snape.

The fact was, she didn't plan to go to the Christmas Ball. She didn't want to go alone. Over the years, she and Neville had braved the balls together, but now he had a girlfriend, so of course he was going to take her. Hermione didn't want to be a third wheel, and she didn't want to sit around watching everyone else have fun and commenting on her being by herself. She'd just go home a day early.

When Hermione arrived in detention that evening, Snape noticed immediately that she was troubled by the short, curt greeting she gave him, and her silence as she worked. Not that she wasn't always quiet and focused, but this silence was extremely heavy. He watched her work, correcting her as usual, and she took it stoically, stopping what she was doing and starting over without complaint.

Finally, the Potions master said, "Miss Granger, you can stop work for tonight."

Hermione had only been working about an hour and a half, and had been looking forward to spending at least three hours in the Potions master's presence. Then she could return to a quiet Gryffindor tower and go straight to bed. Now, she'd have idle time, and she didn't really want that.

"You're sending me back to Gryffindor, Professor?" she asked him tremulously.

Snape studied her.

"You don't seem pleased to have an early night," he responded.

"I'm not. Please, can I keep working?" she asked him.

"No. It isn't good to work when your mind is troubled. You can make worse mistakes than usual. Perhaps you need a few days off," the wizard suggested, thinking that the stress was getting to her.

"NO!" Hermione said desperately, then caught herself as the Potions master arched a surprised eyebrow at her passionate outburst. "No. I mean, this is all I have other than studying, Professor. I need something to occupy my mind . . . keep me busy. Besides, I'm going to be gone for over a week for Christmas holiday, so I want to do as much as I can before then."

In fact, Hermione wished she could stay at Gryffindor over the holidays and continue to work. They could get so much done. The wizard still had over a ton of ingredients to prepare, kept in stasis in a large, warded storeroom.

"I want you to get dressed, Miss Granger, but . . . if you do not want to go back to Gryffindor tower yet, you may stay a bit longer," he told her against his better judgment. "Perhaps you might share with me what is troubling you. As your master, I will also serve as your confidant, as you will for me. We might as well begin to establish that bond, if you are comfortable with that."

Hermione realized that, regardless of how Professor Snape felt about her on a personal level, he was going to be a very important man in her life over the next four years. Because of their history however, she couldn't see him as a father figure . . . the idea was practically incestuous. But he would serve as a mentor. Gods, who would have ever imagined she'd have a Slytherin for a mentor?

She walked behind the partition and began to remove her robes, aware as always, that he was in the same room with her when she was at her most vulnerable and accessible. There were times when she had thought about walking from behind that partition in only her underthings and seeing his reaction. More than likely, she'd have points taken and Merlin only knew what else. But a part of her hoped that he would respond to her another way, like a man responds to a woman he is attracted to. But knowing Snape, the first thing on his mind would be the improperness of it all. For a Slytherin, he certainly stuck to the rules.

Snape may have stuck to the rules, but he was very aware of Hermione's state as she changed from protective gear to her regular clothing. When he rescued her from Harry, he had seen her body for an instant, and it brought the distant past glaringly to the present. And he had so many dreams about the witch, that he'd taken to drinking a few sips of Dreamless draught at night to help him sleep.

Hermione Granger had grown up to be an exceptional young woman. She had a fine mind and a willingness to learn and to discover. She was the kind of student every teacher dreamed of having in their class. But he couldn't lie to himself. He was very physically attracted to Hermione as well, and a part of him wanted to school her in another way, his focus on her carnal education, teaching her body, rather than her mind.

Snape couldn't help feeling that when they met those many years ago, the witch had been . . . well . . . cheated. Her first time was with a selfish, randy young wizard with no artfulness to his love-making, if it could even be called that. She had been convenient and susceptible to coercion, and he had been self-seeking. True, he had changed his approach a bit when he learned of her attraction to his older self, but he was still little more than a randy teenager. She had not been given the consideration, care and treatment that a virtuous young woman deserved her first time.

In his heart, Snape knew he had simply acted as most young wizards do at that age, but he felt he owed the witch more than he'd given her . . . and also, his own ego was itching for satisfaction . . . redemption. He'd like to show her all the tenderness she had been denied in that first, greedy coupling. He'd like to have her experience something other with him than simple animal response. Yes, he had no doubt that she had enjoyed her first time with him in the exuberant way of the young, her orgasm pounded out of her, but there were ways, much better ways to garner such responses.

He'd like to show her how much he had changed, how much more he had to offer her, how much he was willing to give her to keep her happy, what concessions he would make to insure she had every opportunity . . .

Was he being a fool for love again? He had loved once before. It was a young love, but young love can be the most painful, and indeed it had been, none of his hopes realized and what was worse, the object of his affections tossed him over for a man that was technically, his mortal enemy. Not only tossed him over, but married the man and bore him children.

Lily had been the only witch he'd taken that he had true passion for. She was in his heart, in his soul. Even his Patronus had reflected the depth of his feelings for her. Now, he had no Patronus. He'd been unable to summon one for years. His other indulgences were just for physical gratification. Even Hermione.

But in Hermione's case, once he realized that the young woman who changed and possibly saved his life was real, and was a young woman so dedicated and selfless that she braved Time itself to change the path of a world at peril to her own life and future, he knew Hermione Granger was more than worthy to be loved and respected. She deserved the entire world laid down at her feet and the man that she accepted would be one lucky man indeed.

He wanted her. Badly. If only the fates would be kind.

"Professor?" Hermione said, standing behind him in her everyday robes. The wizard had been staring into space, a strange expression on his face.

Snape turned and looked at her, his heart full. If only he could just tell her what he felt, what he wanted . . .

But he couldn't. Not now. He still had to wait, had to maintain the proper medium between student and teacher. There were lines that just couldn't be crossed, not if he wanted to have a relationship with her in the long term.

"We can spend the rest of your 'detention' in my office, Miss Granger," he said, gesturing toward the lab door.

Hermione opened it and walked through. Snape followed. As he did so, his sharp ears heard her stomach growl.

"Have you eaten, Miss Granger?" he asked the witch as he billowed behind her.

"Er . . . no, I went to the library to study and skipped supper," she replied.

Snape scowled as they passed through the classroom, heading for his office.

"From here on out, you are to eat properly. Your mind cannot function at its best if your body is not properly nourished. I will order something from the kitchens. You wait here," he ordered as Hermione sat down and watched him enter his private quarters.

After several minutes, he returned, sitting down at his desk and looking very stern.

"It isn't good to eat this late, but you must be fed," he said to the witch. "I'm sure you are aware how important proper nourishment is, Miss Granger. Now tell me, what is it that has you in such a quandary, you're skipping meals?"

Hermione didn't want to tell the professor that the main reason she skipped supper was because of Neville and Luna's new relationship. How she was angry at her friend for getting a girlfriend and bringing someone else into the mix. It was silly and petty. She couldn't expect Neville just to be there for her. He had a right to happiness with a witch who saw him as something more than a friend.

She didn't want to tell Snape that she was jealous that Neville had found someone he felt he could love and could love him back. That she was jealous he'd found something she hadn't. Something she wanted with a man who wouldn't return her affection despite being her first lover. She didn't want to tell Snape . . . no she couldn't tell Snape she believed she was in love with him, wanted to be with him in this timeline in every way.

"It's the upcoming NEWTS," Hermione lied as two house elves winked in with sandwiches and pumpkin juice. "They just have me so on edge."

They spent the next hour and a half conversing about inconsequential things, and because of propriety, kept the words that really mattered locked in their hearts.

After all, considering their situation, it was the logical thing to do.

Yet, it was a truly wise man who said, "Logic ridicules love, and love smiles knowingly at the whole foolishness of logic."

In the case of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, no truer words were ever spoken.

* * *

A/N: That quote comes from the Indian spiritual leader, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. Thanks for reading . . . now moving on.

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	26. Snape's Christmas Gift

**Chapter 26 Snape's Christmas Gift**

When Hermione finished up her work the night before the Christmas ball, and changed back into her everyday robes, Snape presented her with an envelope. It was Slytherin green and trimmed in silver. Hermione accepted it, turning it over curiously in her hands. The back of the envelope was sealed, with the initials "SS" decoratively pressed into silver wax.

"What is this, professor?" Hermione asked him.

"A simple token for the season," Snape said dismissively, although he sincerely hoped she liked his gift. After much thought, he decided it was the best present he could give her.

"A present? Oh, Professor Snape! Thank you," she said to him with a smile, irreverently ripping it open, ignoring the seal, leaving it whole.

"Your letter-opening skills leave something to be desired," the wizard said to her, but Hermione completely ignored him as she pulled out the parchment inside.

She read it and her eyes went wide.

"It's a gift certificate for . . . for . . . Cedric's Shop of Tantalizing Tomes?"

Hermione's brow wrinkled and she looked up at Snape.

"Tantalizing Tomes? Where is this?" Hermione asked him.

It is a small bookshop in Knockturn Alley. It carries titles not readily available in establishments such as Flourish and Blotts. It is where I purchase many of my own books," he said to her.

"I've never heard of it," Hermione said, staring at the certificate. Then her eyes widened. The cash value of the certificate was quite high. Too high.

"Professor, I can't possibly accept a gift this expensive from you!" she exclaimed.

Snape frowned at her.

"Miss Granger, if you are to purchase any books from Cedric's shop, then I assure you that you will need every sickle of that money. The books in that shop are quite pricey."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Professor Snape cut her off.

"Before you launch into a tirade about this, let me inform you that as your master, I will have to provide your reading material as well, and it will NOT be coming from the corner bookstore. Knowledge has its price, Miss Granger. Hopefully, the books you purchase will offset some of my other expenses. You need to come to terms about my support of you as my apprentice. This is the perfect practice. Now, I will hear no more of your complaints. You will take that certificate and spend every knut. Every sickle you fall under the full amount is a loss that goes straight to Cedric's pocket," the wizard said snarkily.

He hated wasting money of any amount.

Hermione looked down at the certificate again, biting her lip slightly, Snape eyes resting on her.

"Well, it is bad form to refuse a gift," Hermione said slowly.

"Indeed it is, Miss Granger," Snape agreed.

"So, I accept your gift, Professor, but the only thing is . . . I've never been to Knockturn Alley. I've always been told it's a place . . . a place to avoid. There are robberies, kidnappings, hexings . . ." she said hesitantly.

Snape nodded. It was true. Knockturn Alley was full of dark witches and wizards waiting for a chance to prey on the innocent and foolish. Which was another reason why he gave her the certificate. She couldn't go there alone and no reputable witch or wizard would willingly accompany her. Even been seen in Knockturn alley could sully a wizard's name.

Except when the wizard was a Potions master. There were a number of apothecary shops in Knockturn Alley that carried rare and oft illegal ingredients for brewing, although they always had to be checked for authenticity before being purchased. In fact, Snape had arranged to sell a bit of his basilisk to several of the dark shopkeepers, and of course, at a good profit . . . because it was all profit.

Hermione didn't realize it, but by killing that basilisk, she had insured that she would have the very best of instruction under Professor Snape. He intended to use most of the money the creature brought on her education. She would have the best of everything.

He planned to be strict, but very generous.

"Yes, Knockturn Alley is a very dangerous area, particularly for a witch of your age and upbringing. This is why I will be accompanying you when you go to pick out your tomes over the holiday. You will send me an owl and I will come to your home and retrieve you," the Potions master said.

"My . . . my home?" Hermione said, her heart thudding a bit.

"Yes. You do have a home, don't you, Miss Granger? Or do you have a nest . . . or roost?" he inquired a bit glibly.

"Oh. I have a home. I live with my mother and father. They're dentists," she informed him unnecessarily.

"How nice for them. You will leave me your address and send me an owl when you are ready to go," the dark wizard said.

Hermione could do nothing but nod weakly.

She was a bit nervous about this, because she hadn't yet told her mother and father that she was going to accept Professor Snape's offer of apprenticeship. The thing was, apprentices lived with their masters so as to be available whenever needed. She wasn't sure how her father would react to her living with an older man, unsupervised, but she had a feeling he wouldn't be tossing confetti. She had planned to tell them over the holiday, singing the professor's praises, then giving them a few months to get used to the idea.

But if Professor Snape showed up at her house before they got a chance to get accustomed to the idea, it couldn't turn out too well. Although Professor Snape was nowhere as dour and frightening as he was in the other timeline, he still gave off a rather sinister vibe to those not used to his presence. She knew her father would dislike him on sight, his dislike increased by the thought of him being alone with his only daughter.

Hermione was of age, but let's face it. She'd always be daddy's little girl.

But . . . but on the other hand, she would be out with the professor, beyond the confines of Hogwarts. Maybe, maybe they'd even spend the entire day together. Yes, she'd still be his student, but it would be so easy to see it as something more than him simply standing guard over her . . . to pretend he was with her because he cared about her.

"All right. I'll send you an owl, Professor, but . . . but couldn't I meet you at the gates rather than my home?" she asked him.

"Is there some problem with me coming to your home, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

Hermione colored, then thought honesty would be the best policy.

"Well, I haven't told my parents yet about the possible apprenticeship, Professor. I wanted to prepare them first before . . . before they meet you. My father . . . he's a bit protective and I don't think he'd receive you too graciously on short notice. He's likely to think . . . to think you have designs on me, ridiculous as that sounds," she said in a small voice.

Snape studied her. Obviously, Hermione's father was quite a perceptive man. He wisely didn't confirm the witch's thought of how ridiculous the idea of him having designs on her was, simply because he did have designs on her.

"Very will, Miss Granger, I will meet you outside the gates of Hogwarts at the proper time, but, I do have to meet your parents before you sign on with me. It is . . . tradition," the wizard said, "Just as you will have to meet my peers before we begin our association."

"Meet your peers? What peers, Professor?"

Hermione had never heard of this. She thought she would simply accept his apprenticeship and get right to work.

Snape sighed.

"Potions masters gather once each year to 'introduce' their new apprentices to other masters in the field, sharing their qualifications and accomplishments to date. My appearance at this gathering will be a first," he said, a rather unpleasant look on his face. "They haven't seen me since I was accepted into the field."

Snape hesitated. His acceptance into the group of masters had been quite an ordeal. You see, he had never been apprenticed to any master, but appeared under his own steam to claim a place among them. It had been quite a trial, but Snape knew they had to at least test him.

The wily young wizard had turned the tables and tested them instead, and as a result, was grudgingly admitted to their ranks. Now, he was about to ruffle their collective feathers again.

"It is more of a boasting match than anything else, each master building up their choice so as to seem as if to have found the best student to pass their knowledge on to. I would rather skip it, but again . . . it is tradition."

Hermione blinked at him. She was to be put on display? Dear gods.

"Have no fear, Miss Granger. You are more than suitable. Put it out of your mind for now. You won't be presented until after you graduate and I assure you, you will be accepted," he assured her.

There would be a bit of consternation, and maybe even a few verbal protests, but Snape knew his rights as a Potions master in good standing. His plans wouldn't be thwarted.

Hermione felt a little light-headed. First Snape would be accompanying her to Knockturn Alley, then later, he would be taking her to a gathering of other Potions masters to present her to the world. It was almost too much to take in.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" Snape asked her suddenly, not liking the look in her eyes.

"I'm . . . I'm fine, sir," she said tightly, "although I think I'd like to sit down."

Snape quickly retrieved a chair and helped the witch sit down, then retrieved a glass of water and gave it to her, concern on his pale face as she drank a bit of it. He took it back and set in on the counter.

Hermione took a moment to recover.

"You're going to have to toughen up, Miss Granger," Snape said to her softly. "You are moving into the adult world now. You have to be adaptable if you want to succeed."

"Yes sir," Hermione said rather weakly.

Snape thought a change of conversation was in order.

"I imagine you are ready for the Christmas ball tomorrow," he said to the witch, pulling up a stool and sitting on it.

"Ah, no. I won't be going. I'm going home tomorrow," the witch replied, looking down at her hands.

Going home? Snape had been looking forward to seeing her decked out and enjoying herself.

"You aren't going to attend the last Christmas dance at Hogwarts? Why? It is considered a very special occasion, one to be remembered for years," he said to her softly.

"I don't want to go alone. No one has asked me, and Neville is going with Luna. I just don't want to sit there alone while everyone else is enjoying themselves," she said a bit sadly.

Snape's hard heart went out to her. It was quite a sad situation for a young witch. Hermione's dedication and focus on learning had a very dismal effect on her social life. It was a shame she was ostracized for her choices. But then again, he knew precisely what it was like. He, too, went to the Christmas ball without a date. He had no choice but to be there, because he was Head Boy. If he had been given a choice, he most likely would have stayed in Slytherin house or gone home to his empty home at Spinner's End.

"I understand completely how you feel, Miss Granger. If it is any consolation, I was also alone at the Christmas dance. I had to be there, and fervently wished I wasn't."

He had been forced to watch James and Lily dancing and snogging the entire night, the hatred in his heart like boiling black bile as James looked at him with a nasty grin while he danced with Lily, holding her close. He knew Snape had been sweet on her, and knew that he had successfully stolen her away. Despite Snape being over him as Head Boy, the Gryffindor still had something that he could never touch. Something that was beyond him.

Lily.

And he flaunted that fact in his face the entire night, especially letting Snape see him taking her out into the gardens. The gardens were where students crept away to when they wanted private time . . . or better known as 'shagging time.'

It had been maddening and terrible for the young wizard, his rage almost palpable as he made his plans for Tom Riddle's ascension to power, and the death of James Potter.

A death Hermione had thwarted.

Hermione blinked at him, and realized sharing this sense of being an outcast with the dark wizard did indeed make her feel as if she could get through it.

"There will be other events and occasions, maybe even more meaningful, Miss Granger. Of that, you can be sure," he said, and she gave him a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you, Professor," she said rising.

Snape was sitting on the stool and now Hermione was the same height as he was. She looked at him, her eyes softening. Before the wizard could react, Hermione kissed him softly on one pale cheek.

"Thank you for the gift . . . for everything," she said softly, then departed his lab.

The wizard sat there for a moment, then brought his hand to the cheek her lips had grazed.

He could still feel them.

A/N: Just a bit of development and bonding. Thanks for reading.


	27. A Peek at the Ball

**Chapter 27 A Peek at the Ball**

"I would like to welcome our chaperones, who have kindly consented to oversee our students and help make the Christmas Ball a success. Kenneth and Joanne Pallor, and James and Lily Potter," Albus said with a smile gesturing at the two couples.

There was a smattering of applause and small cries of welcome from the gathered staff as the couples smiled and nodded. Snape said nothing as he studiously looked toward Albus, not even acknowledging the additional help tonight.

Lily couldn't help glancing over at the Potions master however, but Snape gave her no recognition at all. James noticed his wife looking at the dark wizard, and frowned slightly. The bastard.

At the last Quidditch match, Harry had forced his own brother, Remus, into a support beam while going for the snitch, a usual Slytherin tactic. It didn't matter that the Gryffindor seeker was a member of his family. Quidditch was a competitive game and if you couldn't be competitive, you needed to get off of the pitch. And that's precisely what he told his parents when they came to check on Remus in the Medical Ward and chastise him.

Naturally, James felt Snape was at the bottom of Harry's callousness, but it was James who had instilled Harry's competitive nature. Snape simply indulged it, like he indulged almost everything concerning Harry. When Slytherins played Quidditch, they played to win. That's how it was and always would be, their allegiance squarely set to their house. As the only Slytherin in a family of Gryffindors, Harry really felt the pressure to stand apart, and he did so.

"All right, let's get this party started," Albus said to everyone with a broad smile, dismissing them. "Remember, have fun!"

Snape lingered behind as the chattering staff and chaperones left the staff room, then slowly billowed behind, hoping the night would go quickly.

* * *

Harry and Draco primped in front of the mirror in Harry's room. Harry was dressed in dark green dress robes and Draco wore rich blue robes that changed color when struck just right by the light. Both young wizards looked very handsome.

"So, you're taking Ginny Weasley tonight," Draco said to Harry as they departed his room, walking slowly.

"Yep," Harry said shortly.

Draco shook his head slightly.

"You know, there's a lot of pissed off Slytherin witches who'd like to chop your nads off for taking a Gryffindor your last year," the blonde wizard said.

"Yeah, well, I'll keep on the lookout for sharp objects," Harry responded.

They walked through the Common Room, and sure enough, several decked out witches fixed Harry with death glares. He ignored them, although Draco made a big production of shivering from the icy coldness.

When they entered the corridor leading to the dungeons proper, Draco said, "Well, are you finally going to shag her?"

Harry scowled.

"No, Draco. I'm not," he said a bit angrily.

Draco couldn't understand why Harry didn't give the Weasley chit the hard one. It was easy to see she wanted it. He had no qualms about plowing through other witches, witches who were much prettier and better connected than the little redhead.

But it had always been this way for Harry when it came to Ginny Weasley. She was fun, intelligent, and there were other things he could do with her other than shag. He enjoyed talking to her, she made him laugh and when he was around her, he didn't feel judged. She didn't seem to care he was a Slytherin. They'd go flying together, and she was a fine flyer. He had a time catching her when she didn't want to be caught. And he loved kissing her. There was always something in her eyes when he pulled away from her lips that made his heart swell.

But there had been difficult moments. Ginny was well aware of Harry's dalliances, although they didn't go out. One night they had a terrible argument out on the grounds after a passionate snogging session.

"What's wrong with me, Harry?" she had asked him when things got too heated and he pulled away from her. "Why don't you want me like you want those other witches?"

Breathing heavily, Harry said, "You're just different, Ginny. It's different between us."

"Why is it different? I'm just like any other witch," she said to him, trying to pull him back down. "Why don't you want to shag me? I want to be with you that way, Harry. You make me feel that . . . that I'm not good enough."

"You're more than good enough! Don't ever say that," he hissed at her, his green eyes dark. "You're not made for just shagging, Ginny. It's not that I don't want you . . . it's just that . . . that . . . damn it. I don't know what it is, but I can't bring myself to cross that line with you."

Angry now, Ginny sat up and fixed her robes, before standing and looking down at him, her brown eyes narrowed.

"Well, if you won't shag me, I'll . . . I'll find someone else then. I'm tired of being the only witch you won't touch. Dean Thomas is sweet on me. Maybe I'll just give him a go," she said to the wizard, then stalked off.

Harry leapt to his feet furiously and took off after Ginny. She looked back and saw him running after her and took off, Harry pursuing her all across the grounds. Ginny was very fast, and it took him a while to catch up to her, tackling her and taking her down to the ground.

"You won't! You won't let Dean or any other wizard shag you, Ginny Weasley! You're meant for me! Just me! I just need to . . . need to work things out . . . sow my oats. You've got to wait for me. Say you'll wait for me," he implored her, his eyes wet behind his glasses.

"Oh, so you just want to be able to do what you want to do, while I just sit around and wait, is that it, Harry? Is that how it is? I have to wait on the Great Harry Potter while he shags everything that moves and ignores me?" she said to him witheringly.

"After I graduate, it'll be different, Ginny . . . I promise you," he told her sincerely. "Please, Ginny . . . don't go to anyone else. I just want . . . I just want you to wait for me. You're the only one who understands me . . . can't you see that? That's why I don't shag you, it would make things different between us . . . it would make you just like those other witches that just do it to do it. You're special to me, so special Ginny. When we do it, it's going to mean something, something lasting. I just want to get out of school first and get a job. They're looking at me for the minors, Ginny . . . I'm probably going to make a good living . . . and when I get established we can . . . we can . . ."

Harry's voice faltered and Ginny looked at him with wonder in her eyes. She believed he had been about to say they could get married. Harry swallowed and looked at her miserably. He couldn't say what he wanted, he wasn't used to opening up everything, and as wonderful as Ginny was, he found he couldn't share his hope with her . . . yet.

But, she must have got it, because she gave him a soft smile and a kiss.

"All right, Harry," she said softly. "I'll wait."

And that's the way it was between Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Of course, Draco had no concept of focusing on one witch. Then again, he wasn't going to marry for love, but for connections when he tied the knot. So for now, it was a free for all as far as the pureblood was concerned, although Pansy was a real cockblocker. She thought she was his witch and made life difficult for any witch that caught Draco's eye. That's who he was taking to the ball, under duress of course.

Both Ginny and Pansy were waiting by the Great Hall. Ginny thought it best she meet Harry in the Entrance Hall, rather than him going to pick her up at Gryffindor Tower. There might have been a brawl with her fellow Gryffindors unable to pass up the chance of giving a lone Slytherin what for.

Ginny was wearing a shiny Slytherin green gown that off-set her red hair, which was swept up and back. She wore a touch of makeup and Harry thought she looked absolutely beautiful.

"Gods, Harry . . . you see her every bloody day. Close your mouth!" Draco said to him as they walked up.

"Hi Harry," Ginny said with a smile, kissing his check.

"Hi," he said shortly as his eyes swept over her.

Draco, who'd been watching him, made a noise of disgust. It was downright embarrassing to see how smitten he was with Ginny. She was okay looking, but nothing to meltdown about. Oh well, there was no accounting for taste. Personally, Draco thought Harry was attracted to the Weasley because she slightly favored his mum. That was a disturbing thought.

They entered the Great Hall, which was decked out in Christmas glory. Wreathes, bows, trees and cherubs abounded. Brightly colored lights twinkled everywhere. Albus opted for buffet self-service this year and there was plenty of food and drink. As Harry and Ginny walked, Ginny spied his parents over by the punch table. James was surrounded by students, busily signing autographs and reveling in his popularity as a professional seeker.

"Harry, there's your mum and dad! Let's go over and say hi," Ginny suggested, pulling him in that direction.

Harry stalled, glowering as he saw all the attention his dad was getting.

Great. Just great.

"Let's not," he said darkly, walking her in the other direction.

Leaning against the far wall, Snape watched Harry lead Ginny away, his dark eyes somber. It was easy to see the boy was avoiding his parents. Well, he would. Who wanted their parents around when they were trying to celebrate their last Christmas dance of school? The Potters should have declined and let Harry have his last moments at Hogwarts to himself. Snape looked at James signing autographs and drawing attention to himself.

He was still the same pompous show-off he always was. And Lily, smiling at him, not seeing anything wrong with his turning the ball into his own promotional showcase. If James cared anything for Harry's feelings, he'd decline signing anything and be as unobtrusive as possible. No doubt Harry would be hearing about his dad all night from other students. What an ass James was.

Snape decided to make the rounds of the floor. He had better things to do then watch James and Lily Potter make idiots of themselves.

* * *

"Ron! Let me go!" Ginny cried, trying to jerk her wrist free from Ron's grip as the angry redhead faced Harry.

He'd seen Harry give her a tiny kiss while they danced, and that was all Ron needed to see. Harry had the reputation of "Top Shagger" at Hogwarts, and he wasn't about to see Ginny get added to his list of conquests.

"You stay away from my sister, Harry or I swear I'll crack your bloody head open!" Ron snarled at him. The other students formed a circle around them.

"Ron! You're embarrassing me! Let me go! Harry's my date!" Ginny hissed.

"Not anymore, Ginny. You don't know what he does to witches, the git," Ron declared.

Harry stared at Ron, not knowing what to say to him . . . but he tried anyway.

"Look, Ron, Ginny and I aren't doing anything," he started.

"I know, and I'm going to keep it that way," Ron snarled.

Suddenly, he howled.

Ginny had sunk her teeth into his hand in an effort to get away. Ron released her and she ran to Harry, looping her arm in his defiantly as Ron wrung his bitten hand.

"Damn it, Ginny, get back over here," he ordered.

"No! Leave us alone, Ron," she said, holding Harry tighter.

Ron made as if to grab Ginny and Harry stepped forward, blocking him.

"Just leave her alone, Ron. She wants to finish the ball with me. Just leave us alone," Harry said, trying to be reasonable for Ginny's sake.

The chaperones and staff noticed the knot of students and began to work their way over. James pushed through them.

"What's going on here?" he said importantly.

Lily appeared by his side. Snape arrived on the other side, taking the scene in quickly. By the look of things, Mr. Weasley had some issue with Harry escorting his sister. Interesting. Snape's black eyes flicked to James.

"I'm trying to tell Ginny to come with me, Mr. Potter. No offense, but your son's a bloody pig," Ron said evenly.

Several "oohs" rose from the crowd and Lily reddened.

"He's been a perfect gentleman," Ginny shot back at him.

"So that's why he was snogging you on the dance floor," Ron snarled.

"Ron, Ginny's old enough to decide who she wants to attend the ball with. She chose Harry. Now, just accept it and enjoy your night," James said reasonably.

"Course you'd say that. He's your son . . . he can't turn up pregnant!" Ron snapped at James, who looked surprised. What was getting into all these children?

Snape smirked. This was quite entertaining.

Suddenly a sharp slap sounded. Ginny had run forward and slapped Ron right across his mouth.

"How . . . how dare you, Ronald Weasley!" she gasped, tears running down her face. "I can't believe you! I HATE you!"

She pushed her way through the crowd, disappearing.

Harry looked at Ron, his eyes narrowed.

"Nice going, Ron . . . you prat," he hissed, starting to follow Ginny. His father grabbed his wrist.

"Harry, wait," he started to say.

Harry ripped his hand away.

"There's no need to wait. Ginny needs me. Anyway, don't you have autographs to sign?" he said coldly, then disappeared in the same direction.

Both James and Lily looked after their son as Snape melted back into the crowd with a low chuckle.

They really didn't have a clue.

* * *

The rest of the night was relatively uneventful, except for the punch being spiked, which was inevitable, and an increase in serious sexual behavior on the part of the students as a result. Snape went through the motions of breaking them up, but he knew it was a losing battle. Shagging was definitely going to happen and all he could do was provide the "Morning After" potion. Witches would no doubt be lining up outside Poppy's doors when their heads cleared and they realized what they'd done. That's always how it was.

Luna and Neville had a perfectly wonderful time, spending the entire night dancing as if there were no other people in the world. But they stayed away from the punch, and Neville escorted her back to Ravenclaw Tower like a gentleman. Luna rewarded him for his chivalry with a kiss so hot it threatened to melt him into a puddle of gooiness. He fairly floated back to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry and Ginny had called it an early night, Harry escorting the distraught witch back to Gryffindor Tower. She was too upset to return to the ball.

Harry seriously thought about kicking Ron's ass, but felt it wouldn't be a good strategy considering his plans for Ginny. He did want to marry her. Ron wasn't going to like it, but that was too bad. Still, Harry didn't want the bad blood to go any deeper than it did. He knew Ron was really mad at him for abandoning him. But, Harry was a Slytherin, so what did he expect him to do?

Well, he made time for Ginny, but Ginny was different. She was a witch. Attraction to the opposite sex often superseded house rivalries. Hanging out with Ginny was much different than hanging out with Ron. Draco had to stop saying the Weasleys were the 'wrong kind of wizards' when he found out just how much Harry fancied Ginny. Like any friend, he kept his opinion to himself when he saw it wasn't appreciated and grudgingly accepted his affection for Ginny.

But he also lined up witches for Harry to shag as well. Hell, they'd even shagged witches together in a Slytherin sandwich. One thing about having Draco Malfoy for a friend was you'd be sure to get a good carnal education. Once, his dad Lucius even gifted them with two prostitutes, and they were only sixteen at the time. Harry had spent a week at the Manor, and what a week it was. Completely decadent and highly educational.

Harry wandered around the empty castle for a while, running into students sneaking off for a bit of private time. After an hour or two, and a couple of rather embarrassing encounters with shagging couples he walked up on, Harry headed back for the dungeons.

He paused on the first floor landing as he saw his parents and Dumbledore in the Entrance Hall saying good night. He watched with narrowed eyes as they left. The moment the door closed, Dumbledore looked up toward the landing.

"You may come down now, Mr. Potter," the Headmaster said.

How did he do that? It wasn't the first time.

Harry stalked down the stairs sullenly, then up to Dumbledore.

"You just missed your parents," the Headmaster informed him.

"I know," Harry said, in a tone that clearly implied he meant to miss them.

"You only have one set of parents, my boy," Dumbledore said gently, "You should appreciate them. Imagine what your life would be like if they weren't here."

Harry snorted.

"I'm sure I would have been better off," he breathed. "Good night, Headmaster."

Dumbledore watched him go, having a feeling in his bones that if Harry's parents weren't here, life for the boy would have been far, far worse. He shrugged it off.

"Must be my lumbago acting up," he said to himself, heading for his quarters.

* * *

A/N: Just a little filler scene, and a bit about Harry. He's not all bad. He loves Ginny so that's a saving grace. Ron's still an idiot when it comes to his only sister though. I didn't paint a pretty picture of James or Lily did I? lol. My Snape-love shining through. :) Thanks for reading.


	28. Off to Knockturn Alley

**Chapter 28 Off to Knockturn Alley**

Hermione spent a quiet Christmas at home with her parents. They bought her a few books, sweaters and decorative hair ornaments, and she brought her mum a new tea set and her dad a new billiard cue.

She spent a lot of time studying, sleeping (so as to catch up on more details of the old timeline) and daydreaming about Professor Snape. She actually missed working with him in the lab in the evenings, and had suggested in a roundabout way that she should stay and help him over the holidays, but Snape told her that would be unsuitable because there was no one at the castle to supervise her.

"You could supervise me, Professor," she replied.

Snape looked at her a long moment.

"It would be highly inappropriate, Miss Granger. We will discuss it no further," he said firmly.

So they didn't. She went home like she was supposed to do, and he remained at the castle working alone, and accomplishing much more than he did when she was present. But, he missed her presence as well. He'd become accustomed to her frowning over her work and cursing under her breath when she made errors, her hair tied back and her expression one of intense concentration.

He'd also become rather used to the pleased look in her eyes when she got through some task without his correction. These times were few and far between, but he always felt a bit elated at her joy at her accomplishment as well as his approval.

She would make a fine Potions mistress.

The day before he was to meet her outside of Hogwarts, Snape had to make a trip to the Potions masters lodge, someplace he hadn't been for decades. It was a dour looking mansion hidden in the mountains of Scotland, always surrounded by mist. It was a mysterious, foreboding place . . . the way the masters liked it.

Low torchlight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, and the air felt close as he entered the domicile. A hooded, rather round wizard met him at the door. All Snape could see of him was a pair of gray eyes glittering at him from within the depths of the cowl.

"State your name and the purpose of your visit," the wizard growled at him.

"Master Severus Snape. I am here to reserve my spot at the Presentation of Apprentices," Snape replied.

This answer was met with several seconds of silence before the wizard said, "Follow me."

Snape was led down a long hallway, portraits of past masters watching him as he passed, and murmuring to each other as he passed.

"That is the one who turned the others on their ears," one bearded wizard said to another in the portrait beside him. "It's been many years, but I remember the uproar. He had quite the nerve showing up here as he did."

"Yes. He was quite the sensation," the other said in a deep bass voice. "Now he's back. I believe his presence will once again be . . . interesting."

Snape and his guide turned into a small room. Nothing was in it except for a stone desk, a large open tome, a large feathered quill and the sputtering torches on the wall. The wizard walked behind the desk and turned the book to face Snape.

"Enter your name. You will be bound to keep this gathering a secret from all those who are not part and partial to our noble calling. The price for treachery is swift and permanent. Your signature serves as your Oath of Silence, and it is a powerful one. Do not add your name lightly, Severus Snape," he intoned.

Snape rolled his eyes at all the dramatics, dipped the quill into the ink bottle and wrote his name out in crimson on the log. He felt magic swirl around him, dark and threatening.

The wizard turned the book back and initialed it next to Snape's name. A.V.

"It is done. You must appear with your apprentice on the required date," the wizard said.

"I'll be here," Snape replied, turning with a swirl of robes and departing, not waiting for his guide to show him out. The wizard lowered his cowl and looked down at the signature thoughtfully.

"Severus Tobias Snape," master Antoine Vargas breathed, stroking his chin, his gray eyes narrowed. "Finally, he's bowed to our traditions and plans to take on an apprentice. I wonder what fine, strapping young boy has finally caught that wizard's eye. Well, we shall see. Knowing Snape, he will be quite the find."

* * *

Hermione arrived at the gates of Hogwarts half an hour early. She was dressed in a sweater, jeans, heavy socks and a heavy traveling cloak against the cold. A scarlet and gold hat was pulled down over her head, covering her ears. She was restless as she peered through the gates, waiting for the professor to appear.

Presently, she saw him, striding across the grounds dressed in all black as usual, but with a Slytherin green scarf wrapped around his throat and black leather gloves. She watched almost breathlessly as he approached the gate and unwarded it, letting himself through and warding it back. He looked her over.

"You're going to be quite warm in Cedric's shop. It's climate controlled," he said by way of greeting.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Hermione said curtly, a bit miffed he didn't at least greet her after not seeing her for several days.

Snape was just getting her ready for apprenticeship. Politeness wasn't really on the agenda. He'd be marginally polite when he spoke to her, because Hermione actually was on his agenda, but normally he would mostly give her orders. She needed to get used to his off-the-cuff comments.

Snape offered her his arm.

"Let's go," he said, wiggling it a little.

Hermione gingerly took Snape's arm. It was rather slender and hard under his cloak. It felt strong. She felt the pressure of Apparition close around her, tight, cloying, squeezing her between space, but she felt Snape too, right with her. Then the pressure released and she could draw breath. The sound of thunder followed.

Hermione looked around, and didn't let Snape's arm go, but actually clutched it tighter.

They were in a dark, twisting, cobblestoned alleyway. The only colors seemed to be black, white and shades of grey. Even the scant torch lights seemed to burn without luster, the flames spluttering as if in protest at being in such an unsavory location.

Street vendors with questionable items for sale stood against the walls, hawking their wares. Wizards and witches moved through the shadows, acting suspiciously, some hooded, others with scarves wrapped around their faces. No one seemed anxious to be seen in full light.

Shrunken heads swung from one cart, their eyes shifting about in their shriveled faces, the spirit still trapped inside. Another vendor had a basket full of human-looking fingernails. The place reeked of Dark Magic. Hermione shifted closer to Snape as they began to make their way down the alley. Black spiders scuttled about in a shop window, forelegs scraping against the glass as if they were probing for freedom.

Hermione didn't say anything, but felt eyes on her and was glad she was with the wizard. The eyes felt like predator eyes, and she had the distinct feeling of being stalked by something dangerous. They walked past Borgins and Burkes, a fairly popular establishment that sold objects of unusual and powerful properties. Hermione stumbled back as a haggard looking witch suddenly appeared from nowhere and waved a deck of blood-stained cards under her nose.

"Guaranteed to win every time," she cackled, "you just have to get away with your winnings, dearie."

Snape said nothing, but just kept going, Hermione's arm securely in his own.

Hermione looked back at the toothless hag, as Severus led her along. Suddenly her cloak was snagged and Hermione looked down. The Potion master stopped, his eyes narrowed.

An apparently legless man had grabbed Hermione's cloak.

"A knut for a wizard down on his luck, Miss?" he rasped at her, holding out a dirty curled hand. "Just a sickle or two for the ill and infirm? I'm starvin', I am."

Hermione's heart went out to the man and she began to reach into her pocket to pull out her purse, when Snape yanked her away and kicked the man over, showing his folded-under limbs.

"You'll be down on something else if you don't get away from us," Snape hissed at him.

The man scrambled away. Snape looked at Hermione.

"Never . . . ever take out your purse in Knockturn Alley," he said, "you'll never leave with it. And give no one anything. They are all con men and thieves. Once they see you give, they have no qualms about taking. Stay close."

Hermione did that as the Potions master led her through the twisting alley. All kinds of scents were in the air and every niche and dark place seemed to have at least one pair of glittering, shifting eyes staring out of it.

She'd never come here alone. Ever.

She crushed into Snape as two wizards began fighting, one pulling out his wand and blasting the other into a wall, his opponent sliding down it as the man quickly rifled through the fallen wizard's robes. Then a crowd converged on him. After thirty seconds, they dispersed, leaving him only in his dingy underwear.

"This is horrible," Hermione breathed.

"This is Knockturn Alley," Snape replied, turning into a worn-looking shop. A horrible scream sounded as they entered. It sounded as if someone was being murdered and Hermione jumped.

"It does get the attention, doesn't it?" a voice purred.

It wasn't a good purr. It was the kind of purr that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

Hermione found herself face to face with a short man that looked as if he'd never been out in the sun in his life. He had watery blue eyes rimmed in red, his hair was short, black, oily, cut bad and parted in the middle, and his face was pockmarked by old acne scars. His lips were very full and moist and as he smiled, she saw he had tiny, gapped green teeth. She realized he was actually taller than she was, it was just that he was hunched slightly. He rubbed the knuckles of his right hand sensuously as he looked at her.

"Welcome to Cedric's Shop of Tantalizing Tomes," he simpered. He held out his hand. His palm was covered in fine, black hair.

"May I take your cloak?" he asked her, grinning.

Hermione looked at the fur-covered hand and shook her head.

"No, that's . . . that's all right," she said in a tiny voice.

Snape couldn't help smirking at her response to Cedric. He was definitely one of the creepier wizards around. But he could find books.

"Hello Cedric. We've come to redeem that over-priced coupon you foisted off on me," Snape said to him, frowning slightly.

Cedric shuffled back, grinning horribly.

"Well, well. Come in, then . . . come in," he said softly.

Hermione shuddered. There was something about the tone of the wizard's voice that made her feel cold inside.

Snape guided her past the creepy Cedric and into the book shop proper. It was wall to wall books, tables and shelves full of mostly brown and black leather tomes. The scent of leather and parchment filled the place. A black privacy curtain was strung up in the latter part of the store. The tables were so close, one could barely navigate them. Little signs hung on the ends, identifying the subjects. Cedric had candles in the sconces on the walls, each carefully covered with a glass globe to avoid any sparks igniting his place.

"Browse," Cedric said, Hermione suddenly jumping because he was right next to her, almost breathing in her ear.

"But . . . be gentle. Be very, very gentle," he hissed as if talking to a lover.

It wasn't the least bit sexy.

She looked up at Snape, who had released her.

"Go and browse," the wizard said, echoing Cedric. "I will be searching for my own books."

"All right," Hermione said, hoping Cedric wouldn't be skulking behind her the entire time.

As if he anticipated her thoughts, Snape said, "Cedric, I need you to attend me."

The shopkeeper followed Snape and Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

There was no one else in the shop. Hermione began to walk around, looking at the titles.

"How to Harvest Entrails in Three Easy Steps" by Stephen Slash

"Glorified Gore" by Amanda Cuttings

"Blood, Wet and Smears," by Ooyou Cad

"My gods," Hermione breathed. Snape was right. These titles certainly wouldn't be in Flourish and Blotts.

She eased toward the privacy curtain, wondering what was back there.

Suddenly, Cedric was by her side.

"Ah, that is the choosing room," he breathed at her.

"Choosing room?" Hermione repeated as Cedric rubbed his knuckles.

"Yes. When you go in there, the books choose you. They know what you need the most," he said softly, his watery eyes flicking toward the curtain. "It's for my more . . . indecisive customers."

Hermione looked at the curtain curiously. She wasn't sure what kind of books to get, and didn't want to waste the professor's money, so the room sounded perfect.

"Can I go in?" she asked Cedric.

"Are you past the Age of Consent?" the wizard asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"Go in," he said, pulling back the curtain and bowing slightly.

From the front of the shop, Snape watched Hermione enter the choosing room.

It would be interesting to see what she came out with.

* * *

A/N: Brrrr. Knockturn Alley is creepy. And so is Cedric, but he's always creepy no matter where he pops up. Ooh, a choosing room. That ought to be interesting. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	29. The Perfect Book

**Chapter 29 The Perfect Book**

Hermione slowly entered the choosing room. She saw a handwritten sign that stated only one customer was to enter at a time. She supposed more than one would throw the books off.

The back room didn't look much different than the rest of the shop, but she felt magic wash over her. Cedric looked in after her but didn't enter. His wet eyes widened as all the books in the room started vibrating, shaking on the tables and shuddering in place in the shelving on the wall.

"What the . . . hey! Say how much you have to spend! Quick!" Cedric exclaimed at Hermione, some of the creepiness leaving his voice as he panicked.

"What?" she called back to him, barely able to hear the shopkeeper because of all the rattling around her.

"Say how much you have to spend before the books crush you!" he cried.

Snape fairly flew over to the privacy curtain as Hermione said how much she had to spend on the coupon. The books all immediately stopped shuddering and Cedric slumped in relief, then looked at Snape incredulously.

"Every fucking book in the back was about to fly at her," Cedric hissed at him. "What kind of witch is she? I don't have insurance to cover patron crushings."

Snape cocked his head.

"She is rather inquisitive by nature," he said softly as Hermione wandered around the room. "She would read every book in the place if she had the time and inclination."

"Every tome in there responded to her," Cedric said, rubbing his knuckles again, his face screwed up. "Between the body and the books I would have had a lot of clean up to do. Next time warn me when you introduce a perpetual book magnet to my shop. Merlin."

Cedric walked back up to his counter, reached under it and pulled out a small flask, which he uncapped and tilted to his full, moist lips. His Adam's apple bobbed and he let out a rasp as the Firewhiskey coursed down his throat. Damn, that had been upsetting.

Snape watched Hermione meander for a moment, then returned to perusing Cedric's latest acquirements.

Hermione walked by a table and a large black book suddenly shifted toward hers, sliding from between the other books it was stacked with. She caught the spine and pulled it out, reading the cover.

"The Basics of Brewing: Tasks, Tips and Techniques to Improve Your Art," by E. Z. Stirrings

Hermione leafed through the book. It was hand-written and showed examples of preparation, set up and methods of multi-tasking when working with potions. In other words, it taught a system that could be applicable to a number of procedures.

"This is perfect," she breathed happily, closing the book, then looking at the price. She paled. It was expensive. She opened it again to check out the printing information. Her brow creased. No wonder it was expensive. It was the only book published by the author and hand-bound, written by Potions master Ezra Zach arias Stirrings in the year sixteen hundred and nine. It was very old. She recognized his name. This was quite a find.

Hermione tucked it under her arm. Over half the coupon was spent all ready. She continued walking through the books. Nothing seemed to move.

She began to slowly follow the shelving on the wall and suddenly heard a noise. She looked up and a book had shifted out of the shelf, but it was too high to reach. Suddenly it fell and she caught it. It was bound in brown leather and the pages edged in gold.

She read the cover.

"How to Acquire the Man You Most Desire," by Celica Gottum

Curiously, Hermione opened the book. It seemed to be some kind of work book. It asked all kinds of questions about the user and the person she wished to attract. Personality, mannerisms, likes and dislikes, current status of the relationship, possible difficulties and a number of probing inquiries. About thirty pages were for collecting information, but the rest of the book . . . was blank.

Blank?

She flipped through the pages again and saw that the first blank page had a three word heading:

THE BEST APPROACH:

and underneath it in smaller letters: Step One.

Hermione stared at the heading. Did this book create the rest of the text based on what was entered? Oh, that was too ridiculous. No book could tell her how to attract the Potions master . . . could it?

No. The very idea was ludicrous.

Hermione tried to put the book back down on a table, but it stood up on its end and shuffled back toward her as if to say, "You need me."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly buy you," she said to the book, which rifled its pages. "Besides, I'd die if Professor Snape saw your title. It makes me look a bit desperate."

Suddenly the title changed. It now read, "The Feminine Mystique: A Discourse on Female Menstrual Cycles."

Hermione had to laugh. No man would show any interest in that.

"All right. I'm convinced. Come on," she said, picking up the book. The purchase of both books would use up the coupon in entirety.

As Hermione exited, she could feel the influence of magic stop. She checked the title again. It still remained changed.

She walked up to the counter with the two books and set them down. Snape imperiously picked up the first one, written by Stirrings and leafed through it, nodded his head in approval. He then picked up the next book, read the title, paled, and put it back down on the counter rather quickly, not bothering to open it.

Hermione bit back a giggle at the stricken look on his face. Obviously Snape shied away from the topic as much as the next wizard. She presented the coupon to Cedric, dropping it into his hand from a little distance, not wanting to come in contact with him.

He rang up the books and bagged them for Hermione. Snape didn't buy anything this time.

"Thank you for shopping Cedric's," he purred at Hermione, showing all his green little teeth. "Do come again."

"Not alone," she thought as she took Snape's arm and he led her out of the shop and back through Knockturn Alley.

It was just as horrible as before, and a little worse . . . at least for Snape when a prostitute walked up to him and addressed him by name, her green eyes resting on Hermione as she gave him a naughty smile.

"Ah Professor, ain't seen you in about a year," she said to Snape, who colored.

"Ah no, Sophia. I've been busy," he said, trying to walk around her as Hermione stared at the hooker, absolutely mesmerized by her red boa and red leather corset and garters visible beneath her slightly opened cloak. She was wearing knee-high red boots with heels. It was freezing out here. She must have been using a warming spell.

"Well you need to come see me and get reacquainted," she purred, running a finger around his jaw line, then her eyes shifted to Hermione again. "You can bring her too. She's cute."

"We have to go, Sophia," Snape said, quickly pushing by the witch, dragging Hermione along, who was craning her neck to continue watching the witch until they turned a corner.

Snape was walking noticeably stiffer now. Hermione looked up at him. He slept with prostitutes? Goodness.

"Was that a friend of yours, Professor?" Hermione asked him.

Snape didn't answer her for a moment. She could see his jaw was tightly clenched, and there was a small tick in his cheek. Damn, Sophia. She just had to make her presence known, and did it on purpose. She saw he had an innocent on his arm. She just wanted to make trouble.

"An old acquaintance," he responded tightly.

"Oh," Hermione replied, brimming over with curiosity.

"I thought we might have a bite to eat before you returned to your home," the wizard said, changing the subject.

"All right," Hermione answered.

He may have verbally changed the subject, but that encounter wasn't just going to go away for the witch. Is that what the professor did for female companionship? Pay for sex? If he did, he didn't do it often. The prostitute had said she hadn't seen him for a year, unless he had others he visited as well. Sophia had been very pretty and shapely, with curly black hair and fair, unblemished skin. It was a glamour of course, but Hermione didn't know that. Not that Sophia was ugly, but her life made her a bit worn and her body wasn't as perky as it used to be. So she prettied herself up a bit. Most wizards didn't care once the trousers were down, at any rate.

They Disapparated to Hogsmeade and went to the Three Broomsticks for lunch. It was quite a public place and there were a number of people there that recognized the Potions master, although not Hermione.

"Snape's robbing the cradle?" one patron said to another as they watched him pull out Hermione's chair for her, then slide it in once the witch was seated.

But the patrons weren't the only ones who saw Snape. Harry and Draco were also at the Three Broomsticks, and Harry was staring at the couple in disbelief.

"I can't believe it," Draco said with a chuckle, "Snape's doing Granger. Isn't that hilarious?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, I don't think so, Draco. He could lose his job for shagging a student. But maybe, maybe he's courting her. She's going to graduate soon."

Harry watched as Hermione pulled a book out of a bag, and turned it over in her hands, smiling before handing it to Snape, who looked through it soberly, nodded, and handed it back to her. She offered him another book, but he waved that one away.

"Maybe they're out getting books for her apprenticeship," Harry said consideringly.

He was willing to consider anything other than Snape doing Hermione. It just seemed wrong on so many levels. He considered Snape to be a smart, reserved wizard. He wouldn't go topsy-turvy over some young witch. Although . . . although he had always favored Granger. No. The idea was insane.

"Going to go over and say hi?" Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm not. Let's just eat, Draco," the young wizard said. Still he watched them interact, Hermione talking animatedly and Snape listening thoughtfully as he consumed his sandwich, his dark eyes resting on her and smirking from time to time. Evidently, he did enjoy her company.

But no. No. He couldn't be interested in her that way. It had to be the apprenticeship.

* * *

Snape and Hermione parted ways in Hogsmeade, the dark wizard returning to Hogwarts and the witch to Muggle London. She hurried home, let herself in and ran straight to her room, pulling off her cloak with a flourish and tossing it on the back of her chair. She bounced into the bed, then reached into her nightstand and took out a pencil, then pulled the books out of her bag. She placed the brewing book on the nightstand and opened up the workbook. The first thing she saw was a little line to write her name as the owner of the book. She filled it in and felt a little tingle of magic.

Then an introduction appeared on the next page explaining that this was magic of a different sort, better known as Manipulation magic, and was something available to not only witches but Muggles as well. An informed witch was a successful witch. It went on to state that once all the proper information about herself and the wizard of her choice was entered it, then a plan of action would be created, which should be followed to the letter. But the next step would appear only when the previous had been carried out. Presumably, the book would know in some way.

Well, that was smart of the author. Hermione certainly would have read ahead if it told everything. But this was going to prove quite interesting. Hermione read the first few questions about her personal history and background, then started filling in answers.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	30. Providing Information

**Chapter 30 Providing Information**

Hermione studiously filled out the questionnaire, having to stop for supper with her parents, then rushing back to her room to finish. She was on the part where she had to give information on whether or not she and Professor Snape had been intimately involved before.

When she put yes, several other questions appeared.

_Did this sexual union occur:_

_0 – 1 year ago  
1 – 5 years ago  
5- 10 years ago  
10 years or more ago_

Hermione hesitated. For her it had only been weeks ago, but for Snape it had been decades. After giving it some thought, she decided to go with Snape's remembrance.

She checked the little box next to "10 years or more ago" and waited.

The next page filled in with the following words in red:

_"Professor Snape should be arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Contact local authorities at once."_

Hermione's mouth formed an "O" at these directions. She quickly erased the checkmark and the page went blank again. Ten years ago she would have been only eight. The book dealt only with linear time, so, in its view, Snape was a bloody pedophile.

Hermione checked the 0 – 1 year ago. Then she would have been seventeen by the book's definition and the Age of Consent, so it should continue without advising that Professor Snape be thrown under Azkaban ASAP.

Next the book asked if there had been any life-changing moments shared between them. Were there? Most definitely yes. She had changed an entire timeline by going to him. And recently, she saved his life. Sure, she was the one who put his life in jeopardy in the first place, but that didn't change the fact that she saved it. Or it shouldn't.

Hermione checked "Yes," then meticulously outlined the events as best she could, giving all the necessary information. She had previously given a description of Snape as honestly as she could, including that he was at least eighteen years her senior, quite reserved and a stickler for propriety. The major obstacle to his responding to her favorably was that she was his student.

The book also asked if there would be an opportunity for them to be in each other's company. Hermione wrote down she would most likely serve detention with him until the end of the school year, and then after that she would be apprenticed to him for the next four years.

The final question the book asked was to describe Professor Snape's shortcomings, suggesting it would help if she looked at him from the standpoint of another who didn't like him. This would be for balance.

Hermione didn't think Professor Snape was terrible at all, although there were plenty of people who did, and were quite vocal about it away from his presence. She had plenty to write on that aspect, although she didn't agree with most of it. Well, he could be less nepotistic when it came to point taking, and he didn't have to seem to enjoy it so much. And he could be very sarcastic, even cruel when speaking to others who had pissed him off in some manner. And he assigned terrible detentions, often giving instructions on how each rule breaker should be handled, even assigning specific tasks to be carried out. That really wasn't necessary to do, but he'd do it anyway. He also gave a lot of pop quizzes and actually picked on students he didn't like. And . . . come to think of it, he never gave her proper marks. They were always a bit lower than they should be.

After she wrote this down, she was asked to finish by listing derogatory names he was often called, whether in his presence or behind his back:

Bastard  
Gaylord  
Git  
Gorm  
Greasy Git  
His Nibs  
Bat  
Misog  
Greasy Bat  
Moaning Minnie  
Dungeon Crawler  
Numbnuts  
Prat  
Wanker  
Dick  
Bad Egg  
Bag of Shite  
Chump  
Clot  
Cockhead  
Dork  
Fecker

The list seemed endless, so Hermione finally stopped, embarrassed she knew so many euphemisms for the professor. But hell, she'd been at Hogwarts for seven years. She was bound to pick up a few unsavory titles and descriptions concerning the still-snarky wizard.

The word "Completed" appeared at the bottom of the page, then another smaller note that informed her she would have to wait twenty-four hours for the book to compose the next chapter, and that peeking would put it back to square one.

"What?" Hermione said, outraged as she stared down at the page.

What kind of book was this? A book of torture? She had to wait twenty-four hours to see what it said about them, and if she peeked, she'd have to wait another twenty-four hours? That was unconscionable and . . . unfair. But it also showed that whatever the book had to say, it would have been processed carefully. A fast answer might have been more satisfying but less reliable. No wonder the book was so expensive. A lot of magic and thought had gone into its creation. It could probably be ordered at Flourish and Blotts however. It wasn't that bad a book.

Hermione closed the book and put it inside her nightstand drawer so she wouldn't be tempted to open it. Then, she had a thought and took the book back out, laying it on the bed. She pulled out her wand to check it for Dark Magic.

No, there was none. That was good. She wanted Professor Snape, but not to gain him by using advice from an evil instrument. There was often a steep price for that, involving some great loss. With Dark Magic, nothing came for free.

Hermione went downstairs to spend some time with her parents. Her mother was in the kitchen washing dishes and her dad was in the living room reading the latest dentistry magazine. He looked up when his daughter entered and smiled.

"Oh, I thought we'd seen the last of you for the evening, kitten. Laying off the books a bit, are you?" John Granger said amicably.

Hermione sat down.

"Yes, dad, I am. I need to tell you and mum something," she said. "It's very important. It's about my future education. What I've decided to do."

Her mother Jean walked to the kitchen door.

"Now this sounds interesting," she said, smiling at her daughter. "Is there going to be another dentist in the family?"

Hermione colored. She knew her parents would like her to follow in the family business, but she just wasn't into the care and maintenance of teeth. She didn't find them the least bit fascinating although there was plenty of business in Britain. She'd never starve for lack of work.

"Ah, no, mum. I figure since I am a witch, I'd work in a magical field," she replied softly.

"Oh, really?" Jean said, walking into the living room and sitting down on the sofa next to her husband. Hermione could tell she was disappointed, but making a good effort not to show it.

"Yes. I've been made an offer to continue my Potions education under the instruction of one of the wizarding world's foremost Potions master. He has never taken on an apprentice before, so it is quite an opportunity. I'd be foolish to pass on it," she said eagerly, hoping her enthusiasm would wash off.

"Potions, eh? Sounds a bit wooly to me," John Granger said, frowning slightly. "You mean making poisons and such?"

"Oh no, dad. There are hundreds of helpful, wonderful potions that can be made. It's a great field. There are potions that can . . . can . . ."

Hermione hesitated, then launched into a familiar monologue.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... but he can teach me how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death," she said to her parents, paraphrasing Snape's first year speech.

After all, it had hooked her.

"Sounds impressive," her mother said, looking at Hermione's father, who shook his head.

"So tell me, kitten . . . how much is this apprenticeship going to cost us?" he asked her, used to paying tuition.

"That's the good part, it doesn't cost anything but my time!" Hermione exclaimed, hoping this aspect of the apprenticeship would please her father.

Jean frowned slightly.

"But what about your books? Lodgings, food and the like, Hermione?" she asked her daughter.

"It would all be provided for me, mum," she replied.

"Are we talking a full scholarship here, Hermione?" John asked her.

Hermione thought about it.

"Sort of. It . . . it just comes from one source though," she responded, her eyes dropping to her hands.

That one tiny action put both of Hermione's parents on alert. Hermione had been dropping her eyes whenever she wasn't being completely forthcoming since she was a child. It was a habit she never broke.

"All right. Tell us what's really going on here, Hermione, and no dipping around the facts, young lady," her father ordered, putting the magazine down on the table and leaning forward, his brown eyes resting on his little girl.

"An apprenticeship works a lot like a scholarship in that everything is provided for you. But it doesn't come from a fund, it comes from the person instructing you. Your master or mistress. They provide your room, board and education. In exchange, you work with them, helping them in the field and learning at the same time," she explained, "because of this investment, a master or mistress will only pick very promising pupils to instruct. I'm very fortunate, because Professor Snape says he's never seen someone more promising. I'll be his very first apprentice."

"Professor Snape . . . Professor Snape. Say, isn't he that teacher who looks as if he could use a spot of sun and needs a hair wash and cut?" her father asked her, his eyes narrowing. "I remember him. He looks like a villain off the telly."

"Well, he does have a distinctive way about him," Hermione said furtively.

"He's old enough to be your father," John shot back at him. "Are you sure 'instruction' is his angle, Hermione?"

"Dad! He's my teacher," Hermione said, a pulse in her belly.

"That doesn't mean anything. He could still be a kiddie fiddler," John Granger snorted, as Jean shook her head. John didn't want to recognize that Hermione was no longer a little girl, but a young woman. Even if this Professor Snape was attracted to her, it wouldn't make him a pedophile.

"Dad! I'm not a baby!" Hermione said, affronted. "Anyway, you've got twenty years on mum! You don't consider yourself a kiddie fiddler do you?"

"No, but your mum was twenty-two when I courted her, and I didn't watch her grow up like a vulture waiting for carrion," her father responded. "She was a proper young woman then, not wet behind the ears like you are. You have no idea what prats men can be."

"Well, I'm getting one now," Hermione muttered.

John's eyes widened.

"Don't get cheeky with me, young lady. I can still turn you over my lap!" he growled at her.

Hermione stood up, angry now.

"And what, dad? Pull down my knickers and spank my bum until it's nice and pink? Oh, that's really nice. Nice and disturbing. Now who sounds like a dirty old man?"

Jean gasped as John turned a deep red.

"Hermione Jean Granger! How dare you speak to your father in such a manner! That's a perfectly awful thing to say!" she scolded her daughter.

Hermione looked at her mother with tears in her eyes.

"Well, why does he have to assume the worst? Can't he see that I've worked hard all my years at Hogwarts, and Professor Snape just might see something in me that's good and worth the effort of training me up? Can't it be that he finds my intelligence and potential reason enough to offer me an apprenticeship? Why does it have to boil down to my wearing knickers? It's insulting. It's as if my mind means nothing . . . to either of you!"

Hermione ran sobbing back into her room, leaving a silent John and Jean Granger behind. After a few minutes, Jean said softly, "John, you were rather hard on her."

John scowled.

"I wasn't trying to be hard on her, Jean. I just don't like the idea of this Snape character just . . . just giving her things. Nothing comes for free, Jean. He's going to want his pound of flesh," he replied.

Jean sighed.

"Weren't you listening to Hermione? She said that she would be helping him. That's service, John, like barter. It's really a fair exchange if you think about it. She isn't working for him for free, and she's gaining something important that she can use in the world . . . well, her world anyway," she told her husband softly. "Besides, Hermione is eighteen now. She doesn't need our permission to accept an apprenticeship with this teacher, John. And if you alienate her, we might not see her again for a very long time after she graduates. You need to think about that. I don't want Hermione to have to choose between us and what she wants for her future."

John took in what his wife had to say, then sighed as well.

"I don't either, Jean. It's just so hard to watch her grow up and away from us. I realized how ridiculous I sounded when I threatened to turn her over my knee when she responded the way she did. It drove home the fact that she is a young woman, and I've influenced her all I can. She doesn't need me anymore," he said glumly.

Jean placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"Aw, John. She's always going to need you. You're her father and she loves you. But she's an adult now, love, and she needs to take charge of the direction of her life. Hermione's always made good decisions. We've raised her well. We're just going to have to trust that we've done a good enough job with her that she'll continue to move forward. But don't think she doesn't need you because she's grown up. You're her father, and a woman only has one father. But she needs you to respect who she is now, and let her live her life."

"It doesn't bother you that she wants to go off with this Snape character?" he asked his wife.

"I don't see it that way, John. I see it that she wants to learn from him, that she wants to continue her education and he's offering her a way to do it. It isn't always about sex, John. At least, not with women," she told him softly.

"Yes, but . . . but Snape's not a woman. He's a man like me, and Hermione is not only brilliant, but she's attractive, Jean. He's bound to see that," John said as his wife caressed his arm.

"Yes, he is, John . . . just like you saw that in me all those years ago. Remember how my father reacted?"

John sighed. Did he? He had a shiner for a week when he showed up at Jean's flat to take her out.

"But you've been very good to me, and we've had a good life together, despite our age difference. I've always been very happy with you. I'm not saying things are the way that you're making them out to be, but even if they are, John, there's the possibility that Professor Snape is a good man. If Hermione finds herself attracted to him, we shouldn't try and interfere. We've been on that end of it," she told him wisely.

John sighed again. His wife made a lot of sense, but then again, she always did. She was a logical woman and always had been.

"Well, I still want to meet him then, check him out for myself," he said sullenly.

"Of course. That's to be expected," his wife told him. "Why don't you go and tell Hermione that?"

John blinked at his wife, then stood up.

"Yeah, I'd better do that, if she hasn't packed up already," he muttered, turning and walking out of the living room.

Jean watched him go, her throat feeling a bit tight. She was Hermione's mother and loved her daughter greatly, but John Henry Granger doted on her. It was harder for him to let go. It had to be so painful for him. She hoped they could fix what was threatening to break between them before Hermione returned to Hogwarts.

* * *

John Granger knocked tentatively on Hermione's closed door.

"I'm sleeping," Hermione called out.

She was in bed and under the covers but hardly asleep.

"If you were sleeping, kitten, then you wouldn't have answered. I want to come in. Your old dad has something to say to you," he said softly.

Hermione lay there in the dark, frowning for a moment . . . then sighed.

"Come in then, dad," she said.

The door opened and John clicked on the light.

Hermione was in the bed, turned away from him and facing the wall, her body stiff and unresponsive. As he looked at her, John couldn't help but remember her as a little girl, so small in the bed, smiling up and him and holding out her arms for a hug.

"I love you, daddy. I'm going to marry you one day," she'd tell him, kissing his cheek lovingly. That always made John laugh.

"I think there are laws against that sweetness, besides I think your mother would put up one heck of a fight," he told her gently, "Daughters don't marry daddies. They marry other people. That's the way it's done."

"Well then, I'm going to marry somebody who reminds me of you," Hermione promised him.

"You can take your time about that," he said to her, hugging her tightly. "There's no rush on that."

John blinked back the tears that were forming in his eyes, then wiped at them with his hand, a little gasp slipping out. Hermione turned immediately, looking up at her father with wonder as he blinked quickly, composing himself.

"Dad? Dad are you . . . crying?" Hermione asked him, sitting up in the bed now.

"No! No, of course I'm not crying. Do you think I'm some kind of Nancy boy or something?" he said to her gruffly.

"No. No, I don't, dad," she said, "something must have gotten into your eyes. Sit down."

John pulled up the little wooden chair against the wall and lowered himself into it carefully. He was a big man, 6' 2" and one-hundred and ninety pounds. He was in his early sixties, but in good shape, his brown hair peppered with gray. He took Hermione's hand.

"Kitten, I know you're growing . . . er . . . all grown up now," he started, faltering. "I'm sorry I threatened to turn you over my knee. You're too old for that now. I'm your father. All your life I've done my best to protect you . . . and it's hard to see that you don't need or want my protection anymore. I feel like . . . like you don't need me."

There. He'd gotten it out. He wasn't a man big on expressing himself, but he didn't want to lose his only daughter because he didn't want to let her go. She had to know how he felt so she'd understand he wasn't trying to hurt her. He just wanted to . . . to keep her close, protect her. But, that time of protection was past now. He had to accept it and what's more, let her know he accepted it. Accepted her.

Hermione's eyes filled. She'd always need him. He was her father and she loved him dearly, even if he did act like a testosterone-filled ape some of the time. He got into a brawl at the local club just three months ago because some bloke hit on his wife. Yes, he was very protective of the women in his family. Hermione was his child, and his responsibility. But . . . his child was a woman now and had to take responsibility of her own life. The torch had been passed, and as much as John Granger might have wished it, it could never be returned.

"Dad, I'll always need you," Hermione assured him. "But I have to make my own decisions now. I just want you to respect them, even if you're not exactly happy with them."

John nodded, "I know. I know, Hermione. It's just going to take a little time to get used to you taking charge of your own life and not having to answer to me. But I'm sorry that I made you feel as if all your hard work over the years didn't matter. They did matter. I'm so proud of you. All those high marks. I brag about you all the time down at the pub and to my patients. 'My little girl,' I say, "is the most brilliant little girl in the world.' And I mean it too. You've always been special. I should have known other people would see it too. So, if you want to take this apprenticeship, I'll support you. It's all I can do anyway, but I do want to meet Professor Snape," he told her softly.

"Oh you will. It's required, dad," she told him, the heaviness lifting from her stomach as she looked at her father. He looked . . . he looked suddenly older and a bit tired.

"All right, then," he said, starting to rise, but Hermione pulled him back and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, daddy," she said softly.

John hugged her in return, once again blinking back tears. He didn't do a good job of it.

"You're welcome, kitten," he replied.

* * *

A/N: A bit of conflict at the Grangers, but the apprenticeship had to be addressed. Thanks for reading.


	31. In Albus' Office Short Chappie

**Chapter 31 In Albus' Office (Short Chappie)  
**  
Snape arrived by floo in Dumbledore's office to present his budget for the final quarter of the term for his approval. He found the Headmaster quite distracted, staring at a small, spun glass sphere on his desk, stroking his beard. It appeared to glow with a dull inner light.

"If you're busy, Headmaster I can come back," the Potions master said to the wizard, who looked up at him and gave him a wan smile.

"Oh no, stay, Severus. I was just musing over this . . . this prophecy Sybil Trelawney made years ago. I really should have turned it over to the Ministry . . . but it's such a puzzle. I haven't been able to access it again, however. I've heard these prophecies are made so only the person they are about can actually make them work."

Snape sat down, eyeing the sphere. Dumbledore continued to stare at it.

"You know, I hired Sybil based on her giving me this prophecy. She was a rather sad case, and I didn't believe she had the skills of her grandfather, poor dear. I was about to inform her that I couldn't hire her, when she went into this trance . . . "

Snape was well aware of the prophecy Sybil gave Albus, because he was right outside the door listening. He had just been accepted as a Potions master and was seeking a job at Hogwarts. When he heard the prophecy, he quickly left, applying another day.

Snape scowled slightly as he looked at it.

"Very interesting, Headmaster. However, I would like you to look at this budget," the dark wizard said, sliding a folder over his desk and accidentally hitting the glass globe.

"Watch out!" Albus cried in horror, but Snape seemed frozen as the globe rolled off the desk and shattered on the floor.

"My apologies, Headmaster," Snape purred as the image of a much younger Sybil Trelawney rose from the glass shards in a swirl of smoke. She was translucent, draped in shawls and revolving slowly.

She began to speak in a voice hollow and rich with power, uttering words of truth that rang inside the dark wizard like muted bells.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … having knotted his fingers in the fabric of time and twisting, given knowledge by one who lives and is yet unborn._

_He would not be marked his servant . . . could not live while the other survived. Armed with that which was not, he made what is, the coil broken by a son of Slytherin who is, and a daughter of Gryffindor who is not."_

It was at this point Snape left the Hogshead Inn, afraid Albus would figure out it was he who killed Tom Riddle. The proprietor had stopped him, but the young wizard said he'd decided to apply another day. He had never heard the ending of the prophecy, which was actually a revelation, until now.

_"Watch for them. She rises, selfless, clothed in the span of years, her garb of brilliance, her lantern for those who would see. Claimed by blood sacrifice before blood ran, the bond formed when her virtue broken. When the line curves to meet the river's flow, time will relinquish the mystery, and the serpent and his lioness will be timeless, and one."_

_Sybil's voice and pale form faded away. Albus looked at Snape sadly as the wizard sat back down._

"I'm truly sorry, Headmaster," he said again softly.

Albus sighed.

"It was an accident, Severus," he said, pulling out his wand and Scourgifying the broken glass. "I doubt if I ever would have deciphered it anyway. I still have the Pensieve, however. But the sphere . . . it is a loss. I guess it only had to be broken for its contents to be viewed."

"Apparently so, Headmaster. You never know about these things. Now, about the budget . . ."

* * *

A/N: Just a little short, filler scene that popped into my head. Sybil had only been hired because of the prophecy she gave Albus during her interview, so she had to have done something impressive still, in order to be a teacher at Hogwarts. Not a prophecy, but a revelation. However, Albus didn't know the difference. Snape wasn't about to let him figure it out.

But . . . there is still the Pensieve memory . . . lol. Thanks for reading.


	32. By the Book

**Chapter 32 By the Book**

Hermione waited a full twenty-five hours for the book to complete the first chapter, just to be on the safe side. It would have been horrible to open it and find she had miscalculated and had to wait another full day to read about how to approach Professor Snape, but to be honest, there was as much chance of that happening as of Ronald Weasley passing on a meal.

Almost breathlessly, she opened the nightstand drawer and reverently took out the book, carrying it to her small desk and seting it down. She pulled out the chair, sat down and stared at it for several moments before opening it. She was excited and nervous and wanted to compose herself.

Finally, she opened it, leafing through the pages. She came to a page with large, red, letters that stated:

CONFLICT OF INFORMATION: THIS ISSUE MUST BE RECTIFIED BEFORE FIRST STEP CAN BE CREATED.

Underneath that statement was the conflict. The book wanted to know if the main obstacle to Professor Snape responding to her was because she was a student, then how did they have sexual relations a year or less ago?

A fair question actually.

Hermione thought hard about the best and simpliest way to answer this without the book stalling on her. It probably wouldn't be able to process that it was an alternate timeline and they were both young when they had sex. Finally, she wrote:

"I was not his student at the time."

She watched as the question and answer was absorbed by the page, and she was reminded of the alternate timeline where Harry had an evil book that contained the memory of Tom Riddle. The book had been the catalyst for the release of the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets. But she had checked the book for Dark Magic.

Still, it was a little unsettling.

Suddenly, more writing appeared.

MOST LOGICAL COURSE OF ACTION: WAIT UNTIL GRADUATION TO PURSUE PROFESSOR SNAPE.

Under that were the words: "CHOOSE ANOTHER OPTION" with a check box next to it. Hermione retrieved a pencil from her nightstand and checked it.

NEXT COURSE OF ACTION: BEGIN A METHODICAL SEDUCTION

BEST TOOLS: FEIGNED INNOCENCE, DIRECT APPROACH, TANTALIZING DESCRIPTIONS, USE OF PROFESSOR'S OWN DESIRES AGAINST HIM.

APPROACH: SITE INNER CONFLICT AS A CATALYST

THREAT: MAY CONSULT SOMEONE IN POSITION OF AUTHORITY IN ORDER TO FIND PSYCHOLOGICAL RELIEF

SAMPLE LINES: I'VE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT YOU (SEXUALLY.) I THINK I NEED TO TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT THIS BEFORE I GO MAD. DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT US?

Hermione blinked down at the book. What? It wanted her to just tell Professor Snape she'd been having erotic dreams about him? And the sample lines were just so . . . campy and corny. But, she guessed they could seem "innocent" coming from her. Besides, they were only samples. She could possibly come up with something better on her own.

To its credit however, the book gave her an outline of Professor Snape according to the information it received.

He was a manipulative man who had no problems adjusting situations to suit himself. By his actions, it was clear that when it came to her, he bent the rules in almost every case, acting decidedly out of character. Based on the two situations where she either saved or changed his life in some manner, he held her in high esteem and might feel that he owed her and intended to help/reward her in some manner.

The book also said that he appeared to be the type of man who could put her on a pedestal, and advised that she take great pains to show him she did not require a pedestal, because such relationships could become controlling, and Hermione could wind up with the wizard hedging her in at every turn for her own good. In a worst case scenario, he could turn into a dominating monster who tried to keep her under lock and key. In his mind, it would simply be "doing what's best for her."

Hermione certainly didn't want that. The idea of it was daunting. Very daunting.

His reluctance to show even the slightest action that could be considered an act of impropriety on his part, suggested he was concerned that she would not return his affections if he moved forward at this time, and also concerned with the status of his job. There was also a good possibility that he believed the difference in their ages could be a handicap to forming a relationship.

The book warned again of the most logical option, to wait until graduation before she began her seduction or sought further physical contact, citing it would be selfish on her part to make him risk his livelihood.

"What is this, a book that passes on guilt?" Hermione muttered.

"DO YOU WISH TO CONTINUE? YES OR NO?"

Hermione circled "Yes." The hell with guilt. This was love, and all was fair in love and war.

"TURN THE PAGE"

Hermione did so and found the heading "STEP ONE." Eagerly, she read the instructions. They were short and to the point.

FOCUS: CREATING A DIALOGUE TARGETING YOUR SPECIAL CONNECTION.

YOU MUST LET HIM INTO YOUR MIND, MAKE A PERSONAL, INTIMATE CONNECTION WITH HIM USING YOUR PAST AND PRESENT EXPERIENCES. HE MUST FEEL YOUR CONFLICT AT FIRST, BUT NOT YOUR DESIRE. APPROACH HIM AS IF SEEKING NOTHING MORE THAN HIS THOUGHTS ON YOUR SITUATION. BE SURE TO ASK HIM FOR HIS INPUT AS TO WHAT HE THINKS YOU SHOULD DO. IF HE HEDGES, THEN SUGGEST YOU MAY HAVE TO SEE ADVICE FROM OTHERS. IF HE REMAINS TRUE TO CHARACTER, HE WILL NOT WANT THAT AND DO HIS BEST TO PROVIDE YOU WITH THE ANSWERS YOU NEED.

INCLUDE THE HISTORY OF YOUR PARENTS' MAY/DECEMBER RELATIONSHIP USING YOUR UPCOMING APPRENTICESHIP AS THE LEAD IN, BEING SURE TO EMPHASIZE THE INCREASED LIFE SPAN OF WIZARDS AND WITCHES.

LOGIC DICTATES THAT IN THE CASE OF INDIVIDUALS WHO CAN LIVE TWO HUNDRED YEARS, A SPAN OF TWENTY YEARS DIFFERENCE IN MEANS VERY LITTLE SINCE SOMEONE AS OLD AS NINETY TECHNICALLY HASN'T YET REACHED MIDDLE AGE. AT LESS THAN FORTY YEARS OF AGE, PROFESSOR SNAPE IS STILL TECHNICALLY A YOUNG WIZARD, DESPITE HIS EXPERIENCE.

DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES MAKE ANY PHYSICAL ADVANCES! NO ASKING FOR OR GIVING OF KISSES AND/OR EMBRACES, ALTHOUGH YOU MAY OCCASIONAL INVADE HIS PERSONAL SPACE AT OPPORTUNE MOMENTS TO MAKE HIM AWARE OF YOUR PHYSICAL PROXIMITY. BUT DO NOT MAKE THIS HABIT, OR HE WILL BECOME CONDITIONED.

IN ADDITION, SUCH BEHAVIOR WILL TRIGGER HIS "THIS IS IMPROPER" MENTALITY AS WELL AS CONCERN FOR THE POSSIBLE RISK TO HIS LIVELIHOOD. EITHER REACTION WILL RUIN ANY PSYCHOLOGICAL ADVANCES YOU HAVE MADE THUS FAR. HE IS A SLYTHERIN, AND THE STANDARD MOTTO OF SLYTHERIN IS SELF-PRESERVATION. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MAKE HIM CHOOSE BETWEEN YOU AND WHAT IS BEST FOR HIM.

YOU COULD POSSIBLY LOSE OR CAUSE HIM RUIN.

Hermione didn't want that either.

AFTER A MONTH (30 DAYS) OF FOLLOWING THIS DIRECTIVE, RETURN AND TRANSCRIBE YOUR RESULTS TO RECEIVE THE NEXT STEP NECESSARY.

KEYWORDS: CONNECTION, INTERACTION, RESTRAINT

GOOD LUCK.

The rest of the book was blank.

Hermione read the assessment of Professor Snape and the instructions over and over. They were very simple and to the point, but . . . yes . . . manipulative. Especially the part with her threatening to go to someone else to talk about her dreams and inclinations. Hogwarts didn't have a psychiatrist. She might suggest going to Professor McGonagall for advice. She was the Gryffindor Head of House after all, although Hermione could imagine the prim and proper witch's horrified reaction to her nocturnal lust for the Potions master.

"Hermione, you must under no circumstance tell ANYONE about this! I will clandestinely make arrangements for Muggle therapy immediately. It is obvious the upcoming NEWTS have you terribly out of sorts. Dreaming of Professor Snape in such a manner? You poor, tortured child."

Or something along those lines.

Still, Hermione grinned rather wickedly at the thought of getting the Transfiguration teachers knickers in a wad. She pushed it out of her mind. This was a serious matter after all, and . . . quite a tantalizing one.

Now, how much should she tell him about her dreams? She was sure the purpose of doing it was to "innocently" let him know she desired him in a physical manner and dangle it in front of his large nose like a bone. Discussing it would only make it more apparent.

She imagined he'd refuse to talk about "such matters" and consider the topic "highly inappropriate" at first. Then she'd whip out McGonagall, or maybe even . . . even the gossipy Trelawney as a confidant.

Hermione had no idea that if she did go to Trelawney, the reaction she'd get would be one of jealousy, rage and lecture upon lecture of the unsuitability of the very thought. Sybil Trelawney was quite sweet on the Potions master, who paid her a bit of deference because he had been witness to her revelation about him and knew she did have the Gift, even though she couldn't control it. He wasn't as cold as in the other timeline, nor as callous with other staff members. He'd listened to Sybil for hours over the years, since she sat next to him at meals.

She was quite territorial about the seating arrangements as well, and anyone who thoughtlessly and momentarily usurped her chair next to Snape, was promptly told this was her seat and a necessary placement so she could be open to the vibrations of the universe.

Then she'd snuggle in next to Snape. Although she had done practically everything outside of appearing buck naked in his bedchambers, the dark wizard expressed no interest in being anything other than "friends," explaining relationships between people who worked together became very messy and affected work output.

"Besides, Sybil, if it didn't work out, I would lose a treasured and wise friend," Snape said smoothly, as Sybil smiled at him. "I have so few friends, I don't want to risk that."

Naturally, Sybil thought herself quite special. But that didn't mean she wouldn't have a bugbear if she received even an inkling that Hermione had set her sights on Snape. Predictions of doom, destruction and impending death would abound.

But Hermione would never go to her. They fell out in Hermione's second year, because Hermione couldn't make a single prediction in the teacher's class. But Hermione felt neither could Trelawney. Neville nearly lost an eyebrow when he suggested Hermione quit her class because it was the one she wasn't good at.

It was quite the touchy subject.

Well, Hermione had an outline concerning "Project Professor Snape."

All she needed to do was find the courage to put it in action.

She put the book away and retrieved the one on brewing techniques and lost herself in it. She wanted to show Professor Snape she was making a great effort to be more efficient in the lab. She didn't want him to lose his high opinion of her abilities.

There was as much chance of that as of him taking the Dark Mark.

The book was quite insightful, focusing on proper preparation before actually starting on a Potions project. Placement of utensils was quite important, and it gave a recipe for creating a purifying potion she'd never heard of in which to place utensils immediately after use. It wasn't a difficult potion to brew. Perhaps Professor Snape would allow her to make it. She could ask.

The book also provided in-depth information as to how important methods of cutting, dicing and pulverizing ingredients could be, giving the best methods of dealing with stalks, blooms, bulbs and so forth, and how the angle of the blade could produce more or less interaction within a brew. For example, a slanted cut would produce more juice than a straight cut, and crushing a bulb with the edge of a knife often had a better effect than slicing it. Hermione found it absolutely fascinating, and sucked in the knowledge as if drinking from a straw.

Professor Snape would be quite pleased with her.

And she wanted that.

Badly.

* * *

A/N: This was a very difficult chapter to write. How to approach the book's results without being too wordy or getting bogged down in details wasn't easy. I wanted to show the abject manipulation clearly as well as the reasoning behind it, but write it in a simple manner that showed even an idiot could follow the directions, one of the signs of a really useful book. I wanted the approach to make sense, you know? Cold, calculating sense. A real "how to manipulate someone" guide. Lol. I hope it went over all right. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	33. Cecila Gottum Short Chappie

**Chapter 33 Cecila Gottum (Short Chappie)**

Since Hermione had a few days before she returned to Hogwarts, she decided she'd like to learn a bit about the author of "How to Acquire the Man You Most Desire," Cecila Gottum. Hermione wanted to know more about the woman who created such a wonderful, helpful workbook. Since the book was magic, it meant she was a witch, and the best place to find out about witches was the Ministry library.

So, Hermione wrapped up warmly and set out for the Ministry the very next day.

Hermione found the Ministry librarians weren't very helpful when she asked them if they had information about Cecila Gottum. The murmured responses in the negative and the way they avoided her eyes made Hermione rather suspicious. Normally, the librarians were more than helpful. Something was going on here.

Hermione set off on her own to try and find out something about Miss Gottum. She arrived at the library at ten in the morning. She didn't find even a snippet about Cecila until after four that evening.

After poring through an astounding amount of dusty, little-used reference books, Hermione finally found a small biography concerning Miss Gottum. It was in a book called, "The Big Book of Dissidents."

She was listed under "Wizards and Witches in Exile."

"What?" Hermione said to herself. "She's in exile? Why?"

Hermione quickly read the bio.

* * *

_Gottum, Cecila_

_Cecila Gottum is the infamous author of a dubious publication entitled: "How to Acquire the Man You Most Desire" a book of Manipulation Magic created to capture the hearts of unsuspecting men. Written while Miss Gottum was in exile for trigamy, the book has been banned in the wizarding world since its first inception, and heavy fines/punishments imposed upon anyone found with the book in their possession. However, several copies of this magically enhanced publication were still smuggled into wizarding society and utilized by unscrupulous women anxious to trick targeted men into relationships. It is believed all copies of this book have since been destroyed._

_A former Slytherin of low-birth and born in Budleigh Babberton, Cecila Gottum was placed on trial for having three husbands at once. Her legal argument was that in the wizarding world, marriage was for life, and since she found herself in love with more than one man, she simply added them to the existing relationship. According to several sources, all involved were quite happy with the illicit arrangement._

_The court attempted to have the witch's wand snapped, but it was found Miss Gottum did not use actual magic on the wizards she ensnared, but manipulation to win their hearts, so her wand was left intact. When she would not agree to stop collecting husbands, she was exiled from the wizarding world. In response and protest, she wrote her book._

_ Cecila Gottum remains unrepentant concerning her lifestyle and collection of wizards. She currently lives in an undisclosed location in England, with five husbands, six children and a dragon named GobSnout. _

* * *

Hermione blinked down at the page. Professor Snape had been correct. There was no way that book would have been in Flourish and Blotts, or any ordinary bookshop. As creepy as Cedric was, his store was a virtual treasure house for the book collector.

So, Cecila Gottum was a female polygamist who had a houseful of husbands. Well, that certainly flipped the script, didn't it? But it proved one thing . . . when it came to getting a man, Miss Gottum didn't just talk the talk, she walked the walk.

And her abilities had walked her right out of wizarding England.

The way the bio read told Hermione that more than likely that was the official "Ministry" version concerning "Miss" Gottum. It was clearly slanted against the witch, the first paragraph very judgmental and biased. Hermione had a feeling that the patriarchal system was quite shaken by Cecila collecting men like chattel, and more so, that the men were willing to be her chattel. If Cecila had been a man, she probably would have been congratulated, in a low-key manner of course. Then again, a man wouldn't have married his collection, he would have simply kept them. Cecila got commitments out of each and every one.

If every witch had Cecila's abilities, then the wizarding world would have definitely become matriarchal. Now, they couldn't have that, could they? So the secret of Cecila's success was gagged and bound for the sake of wizards everywhere.

It figured the author of such a book would be a Slytherin. The bio didn't give a date of birth, so Hermione had no idea how old Cecila was, but she did have six children and added two more husbands since being exiled, so she must be young enough to still raise a family.

Hermione colored as she imagined what Miss Gottum's sex life must be like with six husbands. Did she schedule intercourse, the witch having sex six nights a week, then resting on the seventh day like a deity? Or did she pick out one or two husbands when she got the urge? Were there ever times when they just had a free-for-all shagging session?

Hermione doubted it. It sounded completely exhausting.

She headed back to Muggle London intending on ogling her book again the moment she arrived home. Now that she knew its background and history, it seemed even more wonderful and exciting because she wasn't supposed to have it. Technically, she should turn it over to the Ministry so it could be destroyed.

Like that would ever happen. She'd chop off a limb first. But, the Gryffindor was going to have to be extremely careful about smuggling that book into Hogwarts.

If it were found in her possession in wizarding environs, she could get into a world of trouble.

* * *

A/N: Just a short chappie about the book's author. It's such an interesting book, I thought a little more background would be interesting, as well as an explanation why it wasn't being used by everyone. Thanks for reading.


	34. The Return to Hogwarts

**Chapter 34 The Return to Hogwarts**

When Hermione returned to Hogwarts, the first person she saw was Neville, who grabbed her and swung her around.

"Hi, Hermione! Did you have a good holiday?" he asked with a smile, taking her bag and walking with her up the marble staircase to the first floor.

Hermione smiled back at him.

"Yes, I did," she replied, "but where's Luna?"

"Oh, in Ravenclaw House. I already got her situated and was waiting for you. I met her dad over the holiday. He's pretty cool. Luna's a lot like him. And Luna met my parents too. They like her," Neville said as they walked up the narrow staircase that led to the second floor and the shifting stairs. "What did you do on your holiday?"

"Er . . . studied mostly," Hermione said obliquely.

"That's good," Neville replied with a smile.

He escorted her to Gryffindor tower, waited for her to put her things away, then they went downstairs to the Great Hall for brunch, which was set up so those students arriving late could still have something to eat. Luna didn't appear, and it felt almost like old times. But when they finished eating, Neville said he had to go meet the Ravenclaw, and that was the last she saw of him the entire day.

Well, he had a girlfriend now. She was lucky he had time for her at all, and that Luna wasn't the jealous type.

There were no classes the first day back in order to give the students a little time to wind down and get their heads back into schoolwork. Hermione spent the day going over her banned workbook. It still had the different title on the cover. Hermione imagined Cecila created it that way purposely, so it wouldn't be discovered easily. The young witch was grateful for that.

Even though Hermione had no instructions to do so, when eight o'clock arrived, Hermione could be found in the dungeons, knocking on the Potions master's office door. Snape pulled it open with a scowl, and looked out at her, his expression becoming sober immediately.

"Miss Granger, what are you doing here?" he asked her.

Hermione's belly did flips as she looked up at the wizard and she swallowed before she answered him.

"I just thought since I've been gone so long, I'd come down and start catching up," she said to him rather hopefully.

Snape studied her, and his lip quirked as he widened the door.

"Come in, Miss Granger," he said softly.

Hermione entered the office and he closed the door behind her, drawing his wand and fixing up the rickety chair in front of his desk to make it more comfortable. He gestured to it.

"Take a seat," he told the witch as he walked around his desk and sat down. He studied her a moment. Seeing her was like a bit of sun in the dungeon area.

"How was your holiday?" he asked her politely.

"It was good. I did a lot of studying concerning brewing techniques. I really think I've learned something," she said, playing with her robes a little.

"We'll see. However, I don't have the lab set up for doing any extraneous work tonight, Miss Granger, so you wasted a visit," he told her.

"Oh," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. This was it.

"Well, not totally wasted. I also wanted to let you know I told my parents about your offer of apprenticeship," she said hesitatingly.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"And their reaction?" he asked, tensing a bit.

"Well, it was like I said. Dad wasn't too thrilled, but we talked about it and he'll support me . . . but he wants to meet you," she said softly. "I told him you would arrange a meeting with him."

Snape nodded, relaxing a bit. Hermione was old enough to make her own decisions, but her parents might have brought out the big guns in some manner. He was glad they didn't.

"I hope his reaction wasn't too severe," the wizard said.

"No, not too bad. I think they were both hoping I'd go into dentistry, but I explained to them that I'm a witch, so I wanted to go into a magical field," she told him.

"I imagine it isn't easy disappointing your parents that way," Snape responded.

Hermione shook her head.

"It isn't, but they have to see that I'm not a little girl any longer, Professor. I'm a woman now," she told him, her eyes meeting his directly.

It was Snape's turn to swallow. If she meant physically, it certainly was true.

"My parents are good sorts, really. They've always been supportive, even when they found out I was a witch. They were reluctant to let me come to Hogwarts initially, but decided to let me try it out. I haven't looked back since," she said, trying to work in their age difference in some way.

Snape helped move that along.

"So both your parents are dentists. Interesting. Were they dentists when they met?" Snape asked her with some interest.

Perfect.

"Ah, no. My dad was, but my mum was still in school at the time they met. Dad said it was rough going for them at first," Hermione offered.

"Really? And why was that?" Snape asked her.

"Well, my father is twenty years older than my mum, and grandfather wasn't too thrilled about that. He gave dad a shiner," Hermione said. "But, eventually he accepted the situation, and they got married and mum studied dentistry. She was studying accounting originally. She still does all the books."

"I . . . I see," Snape said, thinking this was quite fortuitous. Mr. Granger might understand his attraction to Hermione. Maybe . . . maybe he should be forthcoming with the Muggle when he met him. He'd have to think about it.

Inwardly, Hermione was elated. She'd managed to let Snape know about the age difference between her parents. Hopefully, that might make him more amicable to a relationship with her. In theory, anyway. Now, for the harder part.

Hermione looked at Snape, her eyes eager but a bit hesitant. Snape recognized that look as the one she gave when she wanted to say something but wasn't sure if she should say it. Generally, this happened in class after she'd answered a number of questions, without any other students getting a word in edgewise.

"Is there something you need to say, Miss Granger? If so, out with it," he said to her a bit sternly.

"Ah, it's rather personal, Professor," she replied, hoping it would make him curious. "I don't know if it's proper to discuss with you . . . because, you know. Our past. I was thinking I'd go to Professor McGonagall for advice. But I won't name you."

This certainly got Snape's interest.

"So this involves me?" he asked her for clarification.

If it did, he certainly didn't want her bantering it about with Minerva, even if she didn't use his name.

"Yes," she said, "but I'm embarrassed to tell you what it is."

Now this really made Snape curious. That book certainly knew what it was talking about.

"You can tell me, Miss Granger. I will hold it in the strictest confidence," he told her, leaning forward in his chair a bit.

"First, before I tell you, Professor . . . I have a personal question to ask you. Your answer might put us on even ground," she said softly.

"Ask," he said, full of curiosity now.

Hermione blinked at him.

"Do you ever . . . ever think about me, you know . . . in an intimate way? Or maybe dream about me?" she asked the wizard.

Snape was caught off guard by this one.

"Miss Granger . . . that is a highly inappropriate question considering our student/teacher status," he responded, his belly tight.

Hermione's face fell.

"I know it is, Professor. That's why I wanted to go to Professor McGonagall for advice. You see, I've been dreaming and thinking about you frequently. And not as a young wizard, but the way you are now. It's very disturbing, and sometimes I can't sleep because of it . . . because of the dreams . . . I don't know what to do about them," Hermione told the wizard.

"You find these dreams . . . distasteful, Miss Granger?" Snape asked her in a rather tight voice. She had said they were disturbing. Maybe the idea of being intimate with someone as old as he was, disgusted the witch, no matter her parents' age difference. She was still her own woman.

Hermione turned rather red.

"No, I don't. I find them . . . they make me want . . . oh, I don't know what to do! I'm so sorry, Professor," Hermione said, her eyes filling.

She wasn't lying. She did dream about being with him the way he was now. It was a relief to tell him, but frightening and embarrassing as well. What would he say? What would he do?

Snape studied her, his heart full. She didn't find dreaming about him repulsive at all. In fact, it sounded as if she wished to pursue a physical relationship right now.

Dear gods.

"You have nothing to be sorry about . . . Hermione," he said softly, using her name. This was a personal matter after all, and something had passed between them that gave him the right to address her in this manner. At least for right now. And he needed to comfort the witch . . . but carefully. This had the potential to be quite explosive if he didn't handle it the right way.

"I . . . I do find myself thinking of you," he admitted, "but I have to remind myself of our situation, of my position."

"Do you think of me . . . like . . . like you'd like to be with me?" she asked him, her heart thudding in her chest.

Snape caught himself.

"Hermione, these are not things we should be discussing now. Perhaps when you graduate . . ." he said softly.

Hermione's heart felt as if it would fly out of her chest. He was interested! He was just waiting for her to graduate. She gave him a helpless smile.

"Yes, we can talk about it when I graduate," she agreed happily.

Snape's dark eyes rested on her. It was clear that she wanted him. If he had any doubts in his mind, the witch had dispelled them.

Snape took a bit of parchment out of his drawer, picked up a quill and dipped it into the inkwell. He wrote a pass out for her.

"I think you should leave now, Miss Granger, and I suggest you take that Dreamless draught I gave you to help you sleep," he told her softly, sliding the pass across the desk. "That way you won't dream about me."

Hermione stood up and took the pass from him, her brown eyes soft and sparkling as she looked at the wizard.

"I don't want to stop dreaming about you, Professor. It's all I have . . . for now," she responded.

Snape swallowed.

"Go, Miss Granger. I will see you in class tomorrow," he said, trying to sound firm.

Hermione opened the office door.

"Good night, Professor," she said to him, wishing with all her might that she could kiss him. It seemed the perfect moment to do so. But the book had warned her not to do that. The situation was far too delicate at this point. But she had done what was instructed. There was more to do, but this was an excellent start.

"Good night, Miss Granger," Snape replied.

He watched her leave, then immediately warded the door and covered his face with one pale hand for a moment. It had taken all his strength not to stand up, walk around his desk and pull her into his arms. The desire to kiss her had been so strong, it shook him.

After a minute or two, he stood up, lowered the already low torches in his office, then entered his private quarters.

Merlin, he needed a drink.

Maybe two.

* * *

Hermione nearly floated up the dungeon corridor, a soft and rather goofy smile on her face as she approached the narrow staircase that led up to the Entrance Hall.

He wanted her. He couldn't say it, but she knew he did. He thought about her the same way she thought about him. She wondered if he dreamed of having sex with her, holding her, kissing her . . . possessing her.

A delicious, sharp ache hit her lower belly as this thought entered her mind, and she let out a soft gasp as she reached the bottom of the stairwell. She was just about to walk up when a silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs.

It was Harry Potter.

"Granger! What are you doing down here?" he demanded, pulling out his pad.

"I . . . I was with Professor Snape. Here, I have a pass," she said to the Slytherin as she walked up. Harry moved to let her exit, then took the pass from her, studying it. He handed it back.

"You just got back today, and already you're down in the dungeons?" he asked her with a frown.

"Well, you know about the basilisk. I'm helping to render it for potion ingredients. It's a big job," she replied amicably. She wasn't in the mood to argue with Harry. She just wanted to loll in the good vibes of Professor Snape's interest. "I was just checking on the Professor's progress since I've been gone."

Well, it was a little white lie, but appropriate to get Potter off her back.

Harry stared at her, and couldn't help saying what he said next.

"You know, Granger, you're around Snape so much, people might think something's going on between you two," he said to her a bit accusingly.

Hermione frowned at him.

"Harry Potter! Professor Snape is a teacher! He'd never risk his job dallying with any student, especially me!" she said to him vehemently.

Harry studied her.

"You won't always be his student," the wizard replied. "You'll be graduating soon. Then there'd be nothing to stop you two from getting together . . . and he's got to be twice your age. That's sick."

"You're sick!" Hermione spat at him. "I'm not going to listen to any more of this. Good night!"

Harry watched as Hermione stalked off stiffly, heading up the marble staircase.

He shook his head. Maybe he was wrong.

But he couldn't help feeling something more was going on between Hermione Granger and Severus Snape that met the eye. They might not be acting on it, but he was almost certain something was there.

He could see it in Hermione's eyes when he looked down at her from the top of the stairs. She looked kind of dreamy-eyed. It reminded him of the way Ginny would look at him sometimes, and Ginny loved him.

Could Hermione Granger be in love with Professor Snape?

Harry shuddered a little as he walked down the stairs and through the dungeon corridor.

He supposed she could. There had to be some reason she looked like that.

Well, if she was in love with the dark wizard, even though Harry liked Snape, as far as he was concerned it was just plain creepy.

Creepy as hell.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	35. The Confession

**Chapter 35 The Confession**

"You know Luna, I feel a bit guilty about Hermione," Neville said to Luna as they sat outside of Hercules' coop, tossing the rooster shelled sunflower seeds, which he eyeballed for a moment before deigning to eat them.

"Why, Neville?" Luna asked him, seeming to focus on the rooster.

"Well, you know we're best friends," he said softly as Luna nodded in agreement, "but now that . . . that we're together, I feel like I've abandoned her. Like she doesn't have anyone," Neville continued, looking glum as he tossed Hercules another couple of seeds.

Luna didn't say anything as Neville sighed.

"I'd feel better if she had a boyfriend, but . . . she just doesn't seem interested in getting one, Luna. Sometimes I kind of wonder if she likes girls," he said, his brow creasing.

"Oh, she likes boys all right. Or men rather," Luna replied with an air of assuredness, rising from the ground and picking up the remainder of the seed. "I think Hercules has had enough."

Neville rose also and took the bag from Luna, putting it into his robes pocket. Luna took his hand and they began walking back toward Hogwarts.

"She does?" Neville asked Luna, looking relieved. He didn't have anything against lesbians; he just didn't understand how they got anything out of it. He felt if they used strap-ons and such, they should just get a wizard in the first place. It was less complicated. Nothing to tie on or buckle.

Neville. Sometimes he thought so simply.

"How do you know, Luna? Have you seen her show any interest in anyone?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes. You did too," Luna responded, swinging Neville's hand now as they walked.

Neville looked bewildered.

"I've never seen Hermione show interest in anyone," he said to the witch.

Luna gave a little smile.

"You've seen it, it just didn't register because it's not what you would expect," she told him. "She likes Professor Snape. Maybe she even loves him."

Neville stopped walking and Luna looked up at him. She had seen Hermione with Professor Snape in the cave, and the tender way she looked after him until he woke up. She wasn't completely focused on the Basilisk. Neville had seen it too, but didn't pick up on what was happening.

"Professor Snape? Oh . . . no way, Luna. There's no way that's possible. He's . . . he's not her type, too old and too . . . well, too mean. He could give that Basilisk a run for its Galleons," Neville told her.

"He's not mean to Hermione. He's never been mean to her, Neville. Didn't you ever notice that?" she asked him softly.

"But, that's because she's smart," the wizard replied, his stomach feeling tight.

Luna was usually right about a lot of things that didn't involved rare creatures. That was still up in the air. But she couldn't possibly be right about this. Hermione liked Snape? No. That was too . . . weird. Too wrong on so many levels. He was a teacher. He was a Slytherin. He was twice her age. He wasn't good-looking . . . the list went on and on.

"There are plenty of smart people in Professor Snape's classes. He gives everyone what for except Hermione. You know how he loves to take points from Gryffindors. He's hardly ever taken any points from Hermione, and she's spoken out of turn and everything," Luna said softly. "He treats her nice. Really nice. She's the only one in the school he treats that way. He's done it from the beginning I think, although I wasn't here her first year."

Neville thought about it. He was here, and Snape did treat Hermione nicely from the first. Even awarded her a nice amount of points when she told him what Wolfsbane was used for. What was odd about it, was that another Gryffindor student had answered a question correctly, and Snape told him off for trying to be a know-it-all, but when Hermione did the same thing, he just gave her points . . . and she was far worse than the other student. She talked for at least a minute. Snape hadn't said a thing.

Still . . .

"Luna, I think you're wrong about this one," Neville told his girlfriend gently. "Not only are you telling me Hermione likes Snape, but . . . you're suggesting he likes her back."

Luna shrugged and they started walking again.

"Well, there's one way you can find out, Neville," the witch said.

"How?" Neville asked her.

Luna gave him a naughty little smile.

"Just ask her," she told him.

* * *

That afternoon in Advanced Potions class, Neville watched Hermione carefully, looking for signs that she did indeed like Professor Snape. She was her usual attentive self, writing down her notes meticulously and listening to him closely as he lectured. Neville couldn't discern anything in her behavior that indicated an unnatural attraction to the dark wizard. And unnatural it would be.

Snape?

Ugh.

Still, after Potions class, Neville walked with Hermione, unnaturally quiet. She looked up at him.

"What's wrong, Neville? You're awfully quiet," Hermione said to him.

Neville's eyes shifted toward her.

"Yeah. I have something on my mind. Something Luna told me. I don't really believe her," he said to Hermione, who smirked.

Anything was likely to come out of Luna's mouth, and despite how smart she appeared to be, many of her claims were suspect to say the least.

"Neville, I know Luna's your girlfriend, but you can't be expected to believe everything she says," Hermione replied, thinking he was feeling a bit guilty he didn't have total belief in the Ravenclaw. "You have to think for yourself, too, you know."

"I know," Neville said glumly.

They walked up the dungeon staircase to the Entrance Hall. Everyone was converging on the Great Hall for supper. Luna wasn't waiting for them.

"Where's Luna?" Hermione asked him.

"Oh, she's working on a charm. She's going to eat in this evening," Neville said distractedly.

"What kind of charm?" Hermione asked curiously.

Neville shrugged as they waited to enter the Great Hall, standing behind students bottlenecked at the doorway.

"I don't know. She never says exactly what she's working on. She says it'll jinx it," he replied.

Hermione could tell whatever Luna said really bothered her friend. Well, that's what she was here for. To lend a sympathetic ear. Suddenly she looped her arm through his.

"Come on, Neville. Let's find someplace to talk about this," she said to him.

Neville let Hermione lead him out of the doors on onto the grounds. They found a bench on the side of the castle and sat down, Hermione casting a Silencing spell around them for extra privacy.

"Now, tell me, Neville. What did Luna say that has you all tied up in knots?" she asked him.

Neville reddened and he couldn't look at her.

"Come on, it can't be that bad," Hermione said to him, wondering if it had anything to do with sex. It could, the way Neville was hedging.

Neville drew in a strengthening breath. Hermione was his best friend. He shouldn't be afraid to tell her what was on his mind, although she might blow a torch at the idea of it.

"All right, I'll tell you, but I don't want you blowing up at me, or Luna," he said warningly.

Hermione scowled.

"What? She said something about me? You two were discussing me?" Hermione asked him. She didn't much like the idea if they were.

"Well, I was really. I told Luna that I was worried about you, Hermione. And I am, I've told you this before. You're all by yourself, and I feel like I've abandoned you now that I'm with Luna," he told his friend.

Hermione gave him a soft smile.

"You're not abandoning me, Neville. You're just growing up. You have other things on your mind besides me now. And I'm happy for you, I really am," she told him.

And she was happy for Neville. He had pined after Luna for so long and now they were a couple. It hadn't been easy to accept at first, but she got used to the idea, and being without him so much. It was bound to happen.

"Yeah, but . . . but you're not 'growing up,' Hermione. You're all by yourself . . . but . . . but Luna says different," he responded, his ears reddening slightly.

"Different?" Hermione asked. "What did she say?"

"She said you are interested in someone," Neville replied, looking at her directly. "She says you like Professor Snape. And she even suggested he liked you back. That way."

Hermione's eyes went wide as saucers. How did Luna know?

When Hermione didn't respond, Neville frowned at her.

"Why aren't you denying it, Hermione?" he asked her, his voice just a touch higher.

When Hermione hesitated, it was usually it was because she was thinking of something other to say than the truth.

Hermione didn't answer him. She just looked down at her hands.

"Hermione!" Neville cried, horror in his voice. "Luna isn't right, is she?"

Hermione still didn't respond.

"Is she?" Neville demanded again.

Hermione looked up at him. Neville had stuck with her through thick and thin. Maybe she could make him understand. She couldn't lie to him. She could tell he knew the answer already.

"Neville, when I told you the story about going back in time, there was something . . . something I left out. Something important that tells why I was in Harry's room," she said softly.

"What did you leave out, Hermione?" Neville asked her, curiosity plastered on his face.

"I . . . I need an oath from you not to tell anyone about it, Neville," she said to him, her eyes sober.

Neville gave her the oath without hesitation. The fact that she even asked for it meant this was something big.

"All right, now I want you to stay calm--" Hermione began.

* * *

Neville was absolutely green.

"I can't believe it, Hermione. You shagged Professor Snape?" he said to the red-faced with in disbelief.

"Well, he wasn't a professor then, Neville. He was just an ordinary wizard. Head boy," she replied in her defensive. "He wanted a reward for stopping Tom Riddle."

"He coerced you," Neville said, frowning at her. "He took advantage of you being there the way you were."

Hermione shook her head.

"I could have said no, Neville," she responded, but Neville just shook his head.

"You wouldn't have said no, Hermione, not with what the future held if he didn't do it," the seventh-year replied. "He knew that. The bastard knew that."

Neville sat on the bench stiffly, his hands clenched into fists. Hermione put her hand on his.

"Neville. Neville, it was worth it, and it wasn't terrible, believe me. My virginity in exchange for a peaceful wizarding world wasn't much to pay. I was going to lose it one day anyway. Why not with a hero?" she said to him softly.

"But . . . but a witch's first time is supposed to be special, Hermione. Love's supposed to be there. The wizard is supposed to care about you," Neville said, thinking about Luna.

Hermione smiled at Neville. He was a hopeless romantic. Most first times weren't anything like that, but more of a spilling over of raging hormones.

"But he does care about me, Neville. He always has ever since I came to Hogwarts. He's looked out for me all these years, gave me a leg up, didn't treat me like the rest of our house. And when we were in the Chambers, he was willing to die to save me," Hermione told her friend gently. "And now, he's offering me an apprenticeship. Being taught by him will make me very respected in the field, Neville."

"It will also keep you in his private quarters," Neville said darkly.

Hermione smiled.

"Yes, and I want to be there, Neville. I really do," she told him. "I think I love him."

Neville clamped his hands over his ears.

"Oh, Hermione," he wailed, shaking his head as if he could make the words fall out.

Hermione pulled his hands away with a bit of irritation.

"Neville Longbottom. You're my friend. You're supposed to support me," she reminded him.

"Ok. I supported you when you dragged me around the castle looking for clues that proved you lived an alternate life. I supported you when you said you wanted to find the chamber and kill the Basilisk. I've been behind you ever since we started Hogwarts. But this, Hermione? Oh, this really takes the rockcake," he told her.

"I didn't plan on this happening, Neville. It just did. I can't help how I feel. How else am I supposed to feel after being with him like that, and respecting him as much as I have all these years? How am I supposed to feel after discovering we have this connection . . . that . . . that he was my first--"

Neville shook his head again.

"Neville, you have to understand that to me, this is something that happened recently, even though it happened before I was born. I just received these memories, and I can't just push them away. And . . . and he feels the same way, I know he does. But he won't do anything about it, because he's my teacher and I'm his student and he could lose his job," Hermione told him.

"How do you know if what he feels is more than him just wanting to get into your knickers again, now that you're of age? He might just be taking advantage of your inexperience," Neville said to her soberly. "He's a Slytherin, Hermione. Manipulation is a Slytherin trait. You're young . . . pretty. He could probably never get someone like you on his own. I really think you should think about this, Hermione. Witches are far too emotional," Neville said to her.

"What? Are you trying to tell me I don't know my own feelings, Neville?" Hermione said to him angrily. "How can you tell me that? You've never slept with anyone! You don't know how this feels!"

"Hey! You don't know if I've slept with anyone!" Neville said indignantly as he realized that Hermione had beat him to the punch, or the stroke, rather. "I could have."

Hermione screwed up her face at him.

"Without me knowing?" she asked him.

Neville hesitated.

"Well, I could have," he said stubbornly.

"But you haven't," Hermione declared firmly.

Neville sighed.

"All right. Maybe I haven't shagged anybody yet, but still, shagging doesn't necessarily add up to love, Hermione. People shag and run all the time," he said to her. "You might feel like this, but there's no reason to think Snape does. He's probably thinking of the physical aspects . . . not the emotional ones. You could get hurt, Hermione," he said sincerely. "And I really don't want to see that happen. It would be better if you liked someone your own age."

"And I can't get hurt then, Neville? If love hurts, its going to hurt no matter how old the people involved are. Age has nothing to do with it," she argued.

Hermione and Neville debated the situation for more than an hour before Neville gave in and said she had a right to like who she wanted to like, adding that it creeped him out that it was Snape.

"Well, you don't have to be with him," Hermione snapped.

"Fine, I just hope I never see you two snogging," Neville replied as she removed the Silencing spell, then punched him hard in the arm.

"Don't worry, you won't," she hissed, storming off.

Neville followed, hoping to the gods she was right.

Hermione kissing Snape?

Brrrrrrr.

* * *

A/N: Lol. Neville had to find out. He's Hermione's best friend after all. Luna is something else. Now, as to Harry, he does seem very interested in Snape and Hermione, but you have to remember, in this timeline he doesn't have anything else to snoop about, and Harry was always trying to figure something out. Unfortunately, without Voldemort, he doesn't have much else to do. One of the downfalls of an alternate timeline. Thanks for reading.


	36. Snape's Decision

**Chapter 36 Snape's Decision**

The first day of class after any extended holiday was always the best vehicle for Snape's point-taking. The exuberance of the students had not yet died down and the Potions master took full advantage of it, albeit in a subdued manner. Students usually lost the most points in the first fifteen minutes, mostly for whispering to each other. He managed to wring thirty-five points from Gryffindor because of illicit communication and the lateness of three students, Neville being one of them. He had walked Luna to class and timed it badly.

He sat down next to Hermione, who shook her head slightly as Snape snapped up five points.

Add this indignity to the fact that Neville now knew Hermione liked the snarky wizard and the Gryffindor wasn't in the best of moods. Snape should be nice to him as well since he and Hermione were so close. Of course, later on after he calmed down, Neville would eventually figure out that Snape really didn't treat him too badly either, when he got right down to it.

To the class, Snape was in usual form, focused on reviewing as he usually did when they skived off a week or two.

"I am sure none of you spent your week with your noses in your Potions book, so open up to page five-hundred and seventeen and review it. You will have a quiz in . . . twenty minutes," he told them, returning to his desk. As the majority of the class groaned, Snape's dark eyes fell on Hermione, who was studiously reading. The wizard felt a little tightening of his belly.

He finally had resorted to wanking off last night, unable to calm his recurring erection any other way. He was reacting like a sixth year to the witch's admission. It was very disturbing. Snape always believed himself to be a highly disciplined man. After he brought himself to release, he retired, drinking a good amount of Dreamless draught to stave off any erotic dreams about Hermione that he was sure would come to haunt him.

He wanted a sustained, adult relationship with the witch, something based on more than physical attraction. He purposely focused on what she would be able to accomplish with his help, how fine her mind was and her potential for greatness. But last night made him realize how much she aroused him. Her innocence and honesty was like an aphrodisiac and he found himself more attracted to Hermione than ever.

And not for her mind. He was a bit concerned that he could inadvertently overstep his self-imposed boundaries if he were subjected to any more of her thoughts about them.

_I don't want to stop dreaming about you, Professor. It's all I have for now._

Did the witch know how arousing those few words were to him? What they did to him . . . what they made him do in the privacy of his study?

No. She couldn't know. And it was better she didn't know. Hermione could be impulsive and he didn't want her to try and force contact between them. Snape didn't know if he could trust himself to stop if she stole even one kiss from him. Not knowing what he knew now. Uncertainty was the perfect reason for caution and restraint, but now . . . now he was certain how Hermione felt about him.

Certain she would willingly accept him.

It was heady. It was dangerous as well. They worked together closely, and were alone together for hours, undisturbed. Perhaps . . . perhaps he should release her from her detentions with him. It seemed the proper thing to do under the circumstances. It was better than losing his job . . . and there was a very real chance that could happen.

Cecila's book had indeed pegged Severus rightly in that his instinct for self-preservation would kick in if he were pushed too far by desire, but had also done so wrongly. This particular wizard didn't need to actually be immersed in the fire before he realized he could be burned. He wasn't an easy man to blindside.

In Hermione's case, he was already feeling the heat and it was making him sweat. So that self-saving instinct kicked in full force.

She had been successful, but a bit too successful, and now Snape was about to backpedal.

Hermione wouldn't be happy about this development at all.

* * *

Hermione happily made her way down to the dungeon area, prepared to touch on how insignificant their age difference was considering how long they lived, and how he was actually quite a young wizard based on his age. How she was going to work it in was a bit of a challenge, but she'd watch for an opening.

When she entered the Potions classroom and walked back to the labs and pushed open the door, she didn't find anything set up at all. Hermione frowned at this, backed out of the lab and called for the professor.

Snape was in his office, not looking forward to telling Hermione her detention was over. He heard the witch and sighed.

"I'm in my office, Miss Granger," he called back.

He heard Hermione approaching and sighed again, steeling himself. The witch entered, stopping in front of his desk and looking bewildered.

"Professor, the lab isn't set up," she said to him.

Snape nodded.

"I know, Miss Granger. Please sit down," he told her softly.

Hermione had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as she sat down in the chair. Snape had thoughtfully prepared it for her beforehand, strengthening it and adding a cushion. The wizard looked at her soberly. Well, it was best to be straightforward.

"Miss Granger, you will no longer be required to serve detention with me. You've adequately fulfilled your duties," he told the witch.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"What? Professor, you still have a few hundred pounds of basilisk to render," she told him.

"Actually, I've lessened that amount considerably over the holidays, Miss Granger. I'll be able to finish the rest myself," he replied, watching as her face fell.

"But, but all the studying I did to improve my lab technique . . . I wanted to try out what I learned," Hermione said, trying to get him to reconsider.

"You'll have plenty of opportunities to try out your new techniques once you accept the apprenticeship. Until then, I have no need for your assistance," the dark wizard said.

Hermione began blinking, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Is it because of what I told you last night, Professor? Because if it is, I swear, I won't say anything else about it . . . anything at all," she said, her voice quavering. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I really didn't. I just . . . just wanted to let you know how I felt."

Snape felt a little ache in his chest at her plea. She hadn't done anything wrong, really. He just didn't want to be tempted to do something wrong himself.

"Hermione," he said gently, using her name. "You didn't do anything wrong. You simply told me how you felt and what you were going through. I appreciate that, I truly do. However, I think that working closely together as we do will only intensify an already volatile situation. We are here, alone, night after night. Now that I am aware of how you feel towards me, I think it best to keep our student/teacher relationship as structured as possible . . . so there are no . . . accidents."

"Accidents? What do you mean accidents?" Hermione asked him a bit angrily now.

Snape quailed a bit.

"Perhaps 'accident' was not the proper term," he said apologetically. "But the truth of the matter is, Hermione, that I cannot afford to have you in close proximity. It is too . . . too tempting to act on what I feel, what we both feel. I could lose my job."

"No. No you wouldn't. Even if something were to happen, no one but us would know," Hermione responded almost desperately.

"I would know," Snape said softly. "My purpose is to teach and protect you, Hermione, while you are a student here. I am trusted to act in your best interest and not to take advantage of you in any manner. I have always been an upstanding member of this staff and am unwilling to jeopardize my position. We are not equals, Hermione. I am in a position of power over you when you get right down to it. It would be a misuse of that power if I engaged you in any manner. And . . . and I am quite tempted to engage you. It became clear last night after you left me."

"But . . . I love working with you. I'm learning so much, and . . . and I enjoy being in your presence, Professor. Please don't do this!" Hermione implored him. "We don't have to do anything. I won't say anything else about us, our past . . . anything. Just let me keep working with you, Professor. Please."

"I can't do that in good conscience, Hermione. I'm very sorry," Snape said softly, watching as the tears began to fall. He quickly reached inside his robes pocket and removed a handkerchief, standing up and passing it to the witch.

Hermione sobbed as if her heart was breaking, and Snape felt awful. But he knew he was doing the right thing. The attraction between them was too strong and for the first time in his life, he didn't trust himself. Hermione would never turn him away if he made an advance. There were no constraints, nothing to mark the boundaries of propriety except his own discipline. Wanking off last night showed him that there was little of that when it came to Hermione Granger. It was painful for her now, but the pain would pass.

"This is for both of us, Hermione. Believe me when I say it pains me to see you so distressed. But boundaries must be maintained, no matter how unpleasant it is. Surely you can understand this," he told her gently.

"I don't want to understand it! It's not fair! All I did was tell you how I felt! Now, now you're punishing me for it. You're . . . you're so cruel!"

Snape watched as Hermione leapt out of her chair and ran out of his office, sobbing. He started to go after her, then decided it might be better to just let her go and cry herself out. Afterwards, she could think about the situation. She was a logical witch when her emotions weren't running away with her. She'd see reason.

At least, he hoped she would.

He could have just ruined everything.

* * *

Hermione ran up the dungeon corridor, up the stairwell, into the Entrance Hall and then up the marble staircase. Her vision was blurry with tears, and she dabbed Snape's handkerchief to her eyes constantly to clear them. She ran by Filch, who didn't stop her because it wasn't yet nine o'clock so she wasn't out after curfew.

She rode the shifting stairwells up to the seventh floor and ran to Gryffindor tower. She managed to gulp the password at the Fat Lady, then entered the Common Room, her eyes red and swollen. Neville looked up from the chess game he was playing with Ron, saw her state and became instantly alarmed.

"Hermione?" he called to her.

She looked at him miserably, hesitated, then shot up the stairs to her room.

"Hermione!"

* * *

Hermione ran into her bedroom, ripped open the drawer to her nightstand and took out the workbook.

"You were wrong!" she cried, throwing the book on the bed. "You were all wrong! You stupid, stupid book!"

The witch drew her wand and pointed it at the tome.

"Reducto!" she snarled, blasting it into shreds. She stared at the bits of parchment and leather, all that was left of her plans to get the wizard she desired. Now, he didn't want to be around her at all until school was out.

Bursting into tears again, Hermione flung herself into the bed and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Well, that didn't work out well, did it? In theory, everything seemed to be going as planned, but people can't all be bottlenecked into one category, and not every person reacts the same way. Perhaps, Cecila's book could be very effective much of the time, but not all of the time. Snape certainly didn't fit the mold it made for him. Ah well, Hermione, live and learn. She might have made out better if she just followed her own heart, rather than a book. Nothing in Life is ever clearly written, and it doesn't come with a how-to guide either. We all have to wing it. Thanks for reading.


	37. Time Moves Forward

**Chapter 37 Time Moves Forward**

Hermione and Neville got into a terrible row about what happened between her and Snape, Neville taking the position that by using that book, Hermione was dishonestly manipulating the wizard.

"Hermione, you were trying to trap him. It was like you dug a hole in the ground and threw some bushes over it and then stood on the other side and tried to lure him in. You were using magic on him, Hermione, and that's not right," Neville said to her, frowning.

"I was not, Neville!" Hermione argued. "I didn't cast a spell on him, or give him a Love potion. I just . . . just used techniques. Proven techniques."

"Hermione, I don't care if you didn't use a wand or a potion. You purposely put him in a position that he was trying to avoid . . . "

"Since when are you on his side?" Hermione demanded.

Neville frowned at her.

"I'm not on 'his side,' Hermione, I just think he was right to do what he did. It shows me he's not just trying to get into your knickers but treat you with proper respect, even if you're too blind to see it. He's not our age, Hermione. You can't lead him around by his . . . his nads," Neville said.

Hermione looked outraged.

"I . . . I wasn't trying to . . ." she started to say.

"Well, what would you call it, Hermione? Telling him you're dreaming about him and thinking about him in that kind of way? I know if a witch told me that, I wouldn't be able to keep her off my mind. I'd . . . I'd want to do something about it," the wizard said. "Snape's older than me and more experienced, but obviously it affected him and he didn't trust himself to be alone with you. Another wizard would have shagged you whenever he got the chance."

Hermione looked at bit dreamy at the idea, and Neville shook his head.

"You're willing to let him lose his job over you, Hermione. How can you be so selfish?" Neville asked her, his face sober. "You know something? I didn't like the idea of you and Snape, but since I've had to get used to it, I believe I am on his side . . . at least concerning this. You should wait until you graduate to make any moves. Even the book advised that. You can't blame anyone or anything for his reaction but yourself."

Neville put his cup down and rose from the bench. They were sitting outside again, wrapped up against the cold. It was early, breakfast time, and they had just grabbed some doughnuts and tea from the Great Hall and went outside to talk, since Neville couldn't see Hermione last night.

And the witch was so distraught, she told him about the book and everything, expecting Neville to be sympathetic and say Snape treated her abominably.

But Neville didn't. He looked down at his friend.

"Look, Hermione, if you love Snape like you say you do, you wouldn't try and do things to manipulate him. You'd be patient and wait just like he said you should do. You could really ruin him, you know. This is another reason you should go with someone your own age. To Snape, you're acting just like a baby instead of a grown witch. I'm not saying this to be mean, Hermione, but it's a wonder he's still interested in you, because it seems you don't care what you could do to him in the long run. Now, I have to go meet Luna. I promised to walk her to class. I'll see you later."

Neville walked away, hoping that Hermione wasn't too mad at him. As much as he cared about his friend, he wasn't going to pretend to agree with her when he didn't. As far as Neville was concerned, Professor Snape did the right thing, especially considering that Hermione was purposely working on him psychologically. Hermione was definitely in the wrong.

Hermione sat quietly in the cold morning air, thinking about what Neville said, and more about how she responded to the Professor last night. Leave it to Neville to go right to the meat of the matter. She had been less than honest in her dealings with the dark wizard. It wasn't very Gryffindorish of her at all.

Hermione sighed. She had reacted like a baby and she realized that if she really wanted to be with the Professor, she had to mature, truly mature. She shouldn't have stormed out of his office crying that he was cruel. He wasn't trying to be cruel. He was just being honest . . . far more than she was.

Guilt washed over her as she sat there, watching her breath curling in the coldness and looking up at the overcast sky. Waiting a few months wouldn't kill her. She was going to be his apprentice after all, and she had her whole life ahead of her to be with him if they were meant to be together. Anything good was worth waiting for.

Sitting outside alone in the cold morning light, Hermione Granger came to terms with herself and realized how to get the wizard she wanted honestly.

She simply had to wait.

* * *

Snape had a difficult morning and was quite distracted. After Hermione left last night and he retired, he brooded over what he'd said to the witch and her reaction. Hermione was a young witch and emotional. It could be that she couldn't handle his honesty and might have changed her mind about him. She had called him cruel.

Cruel.

And by the way she left, he believed that she meant it. What witch would want to be with a wizard she considered cruel? The possibility that he had ruined his chances with the witch haunted him, and he was off his game in his classes. He started a lecture and lost his train of thought mid-sentence. His pupils looked at him expectantly, and he stared back at them for several moments, then snarkily assigned them reading, returning to his desk and making up a quick quiz instead.

When Hermione came to class, he managed to keep his head on straight and give the lecture he fudged in his earlier class in his usual manner as the students took notes. At the end of class, he dismissed them, expecting Hermione to leave with everyone else. She was angry with him after all.

But Hermione didn't leave. She waited for the classroom to clear and walked up to his desk. Snape had been shifting through a few parchments and wasn't aware she was there until she softly addressed him.

"Professor Snape," the witch said, standing before his desk.

Snape felt a knot form in his belly as large as a dragon. Was Hermione about to tell him to forget about everything? That she decided it would be better if she didn't take the apprenticeship . . . better if they didn't get involved?

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he responded, his black eyes drinking her in.

"I just want to say I'm sorry about last night. I realize you were only doing what you believed was proper to do. I understand. I really do. I . . . I just wanted to let you know that. You're not cruel. You're just . . . honest," she told him softly.

Snape let out a sigh. He had been holding his breath without knowing it.

"Thank you . . . Hermione," he replied softly. "I'm glad to see you are mature enough to understand why things have to be the way they are, for now."

Hermione nodded, hesitating for a moment.

"I'm, I'm just going to go now. You don't have to worry about me . . . I'm going to throw myself into studying and focusing on the NEWTS and my classes, so I get the marks I need for your offer to be made. I'll be the perfect student," she said to him.

Snape almost smiled at her.

"I'm sure you'll make the perfect apprentice as well," he replied.

Hermione smiled at him.

"See you in class, Professor," she said softly, withdrawing.

"Indeed you will, Miss Granger," Snape replied, watching as she exited his classroom, then letting out another sigh of relief when the door closed.

She understood.

Thank the gods.

She really was an exceptional young woman. Exceptional.

The days, weeks and months flew by quickly, both Snape and Hermione acting as proper student and teacher, with Snape still showing his obvious favoritism. Luna, Neville and Hermione studied together now, although Luna irked Hermione constantly with her ability to answer every question textbook verbatim. But . . . she did figure out Luna's secret.

"You have a photographic memory!" Hermione said, somewhat accusingly, as Neville looked at Luna wide-eyed. She hadn't told him.

"Guilty," Luna replied with a soft smile, "but do me a favor and don't tell anyone. They'll be constantly asking me questions as if I was a walking trivia book, trying to stump me. I don't want to go through that."

Hermione could understand it, and felt a little better concerning her competitiveness with Luna, and even a little superior, although she didn't say it. After all, Hermione retained knowledge, while Luna simply remembered it. Still, it was a very cool ability, and once Hermione knew Luna had this gift, anytime she needed to reference something that she knew Luna had taken a class on, instead of running for a book, she simply asked the witch.

Luna was an excellent study aid. Neville cashed in on her ability as well.

"I swear Luna, you're the best girlfriend in the world," he gushed after she gave him the formula for a difficult potion.

"The very best."

* * *

The NEWTS came and went, and Hermione did excellent, scoring extremely high marks in every subject, including, of course, potions. Actually, she scored the highest marks Hogwarts had seen in fifty years. Neville did very well, too, scoring high enough to get an honorable mention at graduation.

After the diplomas were handed out, Albus Dumbledore approached the podium, waiting patiently as all the hubbub died down and the graduation caps were collected and reapplied to the proper heads. He tapped it with his wand, and everyone settled in, looking at him expectantly.

"Now, we come to the part of the ceremony where awards are handed out, and extra points are given to students of exceptional merit. Naturally, this could affect who earns the House Cup this year, although currently Slytherin has possession of it.

The Slytherins all cheered. Snape sat quietly. He knew that this year, the House Cup was beyond his house. But he found he didn't mind it at all.

There was always next year.

Albus named several students who received points for services rendered to the school, granting Hermione and Neville a total of three hundred and fifty points for locating the chambers and destroying the basilisk. Luna received two hundred points for her part in the adventure and developing the Silhouette mask. Slytherin fell silent as the House Cup passed from the Serpent's Lair to the Lion's Den. There was no grumbling however. The Gryffindors deserved it.

Next Albus handed out awards for academic excellence as well as service to the school. Hermione hit the dais five times, and Neville twice. When everyone was settled again and expecting the Headmaster to dismiss them, Albus raised his voice one more time.

At graduation, everyone at Hogwarts was in attendance, even the house elves and ghosts, all politely applauding the students as they accepted their diplomas and awards. Myrtle was there, bobbing next to Hagrid, watching the graduation wistfully.

"We have one more diploma to hand out," Albus said, "and a few house points as well as a Medal of Merit. Would Myrtle Tuttlesberry please come to the dais?"

Gasps rose, followed by applause as a stunned Myrtle stared up at the Headmaster, unable to move. Hagrid smiled at her.

"Go on, Myrtle. I'll come wit' yah ter collect yer diploma," the half-giant said.

Myrtle looked at him, her eyes glazed behind her pearly glasses as the applause continued. She self-consciously smoothed her ghostly robes floated out into the aisle and up to the dais, Hagrid following her. She floated up to Dumbledore.

"Myrtle Tuttlesberry, this has been a long time coming. You had completed your classes at Hogwarts at the time of your demise. Congratulations on completing a successful tenure at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said to the ghost with a smile and passing the diploma to Hagrid, who unrolled it so Myrtle could see her name and Dumbledore's signature. Pearly tears fell from her eyes.

"In addition," Dumbledore said, "I wish to present you with the Medal of Exceptional Service for your part in assisting in the protection of three of our students who were in dire danger. Without your timely action, we might have lost them. We are in your debt."

Again, applause rang out as Dumbledore passed Hagrid a beautiful gold medal. Myrtle was beyond words, but managed to whisper, "Thank you, Headmaster."

"You're welcome, Miss Tuttlesberry," Albus replied, "but there is one more thing. Because of your assistance in the chambers, you have earned Ravenclaw house three hundred points, thus awarding them the House Cup this year."

The Ravenclaw table went wild, screaming and clapping and shouting Myrtle's name. And even though the Eagle took the cup from the Lion, every house, even Slytherin, joined in the applause as Myrtle floated there, seemingly unable to fathom all of the attention and . . . the love. At last, at last she was truly acknowledged.

"Thar yah go, Myrtle," Hagrid said to her softly as the ghost cried, silverish tears splashing the floor then disappearing. "Yah deserves it, yah know. All of it."

Myrtle was about to reply, when suddenly a bright beam of light shot through the sky-illusioned ceiling of the Great Hall and fell on her, the ghost's pearly glow becoming brighter and dazzling as everyone fell silent in shock.

"It's the Light," Sir Nicholas breathed, awed.

Myrtle was earthbound not because she chose to be, but because of the violence with which she died, and her misery. Most of the ghosts at Hogwarts made a conscious decision not to move on, denying the Light. Myrtle had never had a choice . . . until now. Now, she was free of her misery, her soul open to the world beyond this one. All she had to do was accept her death and cross over.

"It says . . . I can go now," Myrtle breathed, beautiful in the dazzling light, appearing older, her visage now of the witch she would have become. She turned to Hagrid.

"I can go now, Hagrid," she said to the half-giant softly. "I'm free."

Tears fell from Hagrid's eyes, the droplets caught in his brushy beard as he looked at his friend.

"Then yah should go, Myrtle," he said to her, his voice catching.

Myrtle blinked at him a moment, then floated forward and kissed him on the lips. It was like a small blast of freezing cold, but made Hagrid feel warm all over.

"I'll remember you always, Hagrid," she said softly as he wiped his eyes.

"I'll put yer medal in tha' trophy case, an' keep yer diploma, ifn yah don' mind," he told her.

"That's fine, Hagrid. Just fine," she replied with a smile. Then she turned to the silent audience.

"Thank you all, so very much," she said to the students, many of whom had wet eyes as they looked back at her, murmuring their goodbyes. Minerva was dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve, and Albus' blue eyes watered behind his half-moon glasses. Myrtle looked up.

"Mother?" she said, then, "Mother! Oh, mother!"

She started to ascend into the light, then paused for a moment. An expression of joyful malice crossed her shining face.

"And Olive Hornsby!" she hissed. "Oh, I've been waiting to see you again, you bitch!"

With that, Myrtle zipped forward and disappeared like a flash into the light and presumably, the next world. Someone was going to receive her just rewards, you could be sure of that.

Albus addressed the stunned audience.

"This ceremony is officially over. We will see you all tonight at the Graduation Dance!"

That broke them from their silence. Cheers rang out and caps flew as the new graduates celebrated their release from Hogwarts and entrance into the adult world.

From the dais, Snape watched Hermione embrace Neville and several other students with joy.

Finally, she was free.

And . . . so was he.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	38. Preparing for the Ball

**Chapter 38 Preparing for the Ball**

Hermione spent about forty-five minutes with her mother and father, who attended the graduation ceremony and who would also be attending the ball. There was an area provide for family members to relax and get ready for the evening's festivities. They were also allowed to walk about Hogwarts and talk to staff members as the students prepared for their final ball.

Jean had been disappointed to learn that Hermione didn't have a date. It was sad, but her daughter seemed fine with it.

"I don't need an escort, mum. It's my graduation ball and I'm not going to miss it for anything," Hermione told her.

She had already missed the Christmas ball, but this one was far more important.

Professor Snape watched Hermione depart, then quietly walked up to Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Excuse me," he said politely. "I am Professor Severus Snape, Miss Granger's Potions professor."

Both John and Jean Granger turned to face him. Snape offered Mr. Granger his hand, who looked at it for a moment, then took it in a rather firm gripped and pumped, several times. Snape then inclined his head toward Jean.

"Mrs. Granger," he said silkily.

"Professor Snape," the woman said, looking into his pale face with interest.

John Granger studied him.

"I understand you are offering my daughter an apprenticeship," Mr. Granger said.

Snape nodded.

"Your daughter has a gift, Mr. Granger. She is highly intelligent and capable of handling the exacting art that is Potions. She is so exceptional that she is the first apprentice I've ever taken on. She will be given a premiere education and will be a full fledged Potions mistress when she completes the four year program, at which time she will be formally admitted into the field. We do not give out degrees here, but she will be the equivalent of a Doctor of Potions and Elixirs," Snape told him.

Jean looked very impressed at this. Snape seemed to be a very reserved wizard.

"I understand you will be providing for my daughter's needs, Mr. Snape," John said to him, his eyes hard.

"Yes, that is standard operating procedure. Room, board, books, equipment and ingredients," Snape replied smoothly. "It is a fair exchange since she will be working very hard at her art assisting me. I am not an easy teacher, but thorough."

John eyed him.

"Yes. What I'm interested in is the room and board part. She will be living with you?" John asked him pointedly, reddening slightly. Jean placed her hand on her husband's arm and his eyes shifted toward her a moment and he calmed.

"Yes, she will. Would you like to see her quarters and the lab she will be working in?" Snape asked them.

"Oh yes," Jean replied, thinking this might help the pulsing veins now apparent in John's temples back to rest.

"Please, follow me," Snape said, leading them through the other parents and out of the room.

"Your quarters are down here?" Jean asked Snape as he led them through the dank, dark dungeon corridor. Torches splutters and eerie shadows flickered on the walls. Hogwarts residents were used to the dourness, but for two dentists, this was rather disturbing.

"Yes. The coolness of the area helps with preserving ingredients, Snape replied, leading them to his office and letting them in.

John's eyes immediately fell on the pickled plants and creatures in jars behind his desk.

"Quite a backdrop you have there, Mr. Snape," he said as Jean cringed a little as the staring frog in the purple liquid seemed to spasm.

"They are mostly for show, Mr. Granger. I like to keep a bit of atmosphere and mystery surrounding me," Snape replied. "They've been here for years and serve to rush those with lesser constitutions out of my office in a timely manner. I'm a busy man."

John Granger smirked a bit at this. The wizard kept these awful things to drive people out of his presence? That was rather funny.

Snape pulled a torch on the wall, and an opening appeared.

"These are my quarters," Snape said, leading them into the sparsely furnished study. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Two armchairs, a sofa, a liquor cabinet and a desk were all the furnishings apparent. As well as a large fireplace with a small fire burning in the hearth. Torches burned in sconces, carefully tilted away from the books. There was a door that led to Snape's bedroom. All in all it seemed rather dismal for a young woman to occupy.

"I don't see any accommodations for my daughter," John said, eyeing the door that led to Snape's bedroom.

"Oh, you wouldn't," Snape replied, walking to the left wall and pulling out a book. The wall, complete with tomes, slid up, revealing a doorway. "Here is where your daughter will reside."

Snape stood back and let Jean enter first, followed by John Granger. Snape entered behind them.

"As you can see, she has every amenity necessary for a young woman to be comfortable, including privacy," Snape said softly.

They were in a small, brightly painted kitchen furnished with a stove, cooler, cabinets, pot, pans, kitchen table and four chairs. A well-lit hallway led away from it.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger thoroughly investigated the rooms. She had a bedroom with a queen-sized four-poster canopy bed, large wardrobe, dresser, two wooden chairs and a small desk and chair. There was also a private bathroom done in Gryffindor colors, with a sunken tub and separate shower. Plenty of fluffy towels were stacked in the small closet.

Further down the hall was another room with a desk, sofa armchair and empty bookshelves. Her private study. Finally, there was another room. A lab.

"My, this is quite nice, isn't it, John?" Jean said, impressed.

John nodded thoughtfully.

"And it has a private entrance from the dungeon corridor," Snape added, his dark eyes glittering. "Your daughter hasn't seen it yet."

"These are very nice accommodations, Mr. Snape," John admitted grudgingly.

"I want her to be comfortable and well-rested, Mr. Granger. This apprenticeship will be no cakewalk. She will need someplace of her own to recharge," Snape replied.

"What type of work will she be doing, Mr. Snape?" Jean asked him.

"Well, to begin with, she will be finishing up rendering ingredients from a basilisk she overcame earlier this year," Snape said, his lip quirking.

He had saved a very special part of the creature for this moment.

"A basilisk? What is that? She overcame it?" John questioned him.

"I think in this case, showing will be more effective than telling," Snape answered. "If you'll just follow me . . ."

Snape led them out of his quarters, through the classroom, past the Potions stores and into his lab.

"This will be where Miss Granger will be working when she works with me. Not as bright and airy as her own lab, but she's used to it," Snape said, walking up to a large, covered object on the counter and waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Granger to join him.

He caught the edge of the green fabric and flipped it back with a flourish.

Jean Granger screamed and clutched her husband, who turned green as he looked on the severed head of the basilisk. It was under stasis and gleaming, the yellow eyes staring, forked tongue extended and terrifying fangs apparent in its horribly gaping mouth.

"This is the basilisk. Your daughter killed it in the Chamber of Secrets after it had bitten me," Snape said to them, his black eyes resting on the head before shifting back to Hermione's parents. "She also saved my life with her quick thinking. Its venom is deadly. I wanted to show you this to assure you that your daughter is quite capable of taking care of herself. If you had doubts, I'm quite sure this . . ."

Snape swept his hand over the basilisk's head.

" . . . will bring you some peace of mind."

Mr. Granger and wife stared at the horrible thing. By the size of the scaly head, it must have been huge. Hermione killed this? By herself?

Maybe she didn't need that much protection after all.

* * *

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, examining herself critically. Her hair was soft and curling, swept up elegantly by a gold comb, two curled tendrils dangling by her ears. She wore scarlet and gold earrings and a lovely scarlet gown, with sequins that sparkled golden when hit just right by the light. The dress fit her perfectly, accentuating her curves. She wore a bit of makeup, just enough to bring out her eyes and lips and her shoes were three inch heels, also scarlet and gold. .She looked very grown up as she spun.

It didn't bother her that she didn't have a date for the ball. She was excited because Professor Snape would be there, and he was the only one she had eyes for. Knowing he would see her was more than enough for the Gryffindor. Giving herself one more spin, she exited the room and made her way downstairs.

A few students were in the Common Room. Ron was the first to see Hermione.

"Wow!" he exclaimed as she made her way down the stairs, looking absolutely gorgeous. Lavender glowered at him. She was in a blue silk gown with a scooped back. She looked lovely as well, but Hermione definitely outshined her.

Since Hermione never made herself up or did anything special normally, the effect of seeing her this way was dazzling, and every wizard and witch in the room gaped at her.

"Who knew she was hiding all of that under those robes?" Dean breathed to Seamus, who was staring at Hermione with his mouth open.

Neville was there too, and he was amazed as he walked up to her.

"Wow, Hermione. You certainly clean up good," he said to her softly. "I bet these idiots wished they had asked you to the ball now."

Hermione gave him a smile.

"It's all right, Neville. The wizard that matters will be at the ball."

"His eyes are going to pop right out of his head," Neville said to her. "I'll walk you partway down. I'm going to pick up Luna."

He offered Hermione his arm, and she took it. Together, they walked out of the Common Room, everyone looking after them.

"Wow," Ron said again, this time being punched in the shoulder by an angry Lavender.

"What?" he exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder as she glared at him.

* * *

Neville pushed the portrait open, walked out and helped Hermione through. He slipped his arm through hers, turned to walk up the corridor and suddenly froze, as did Hermione.

Standing there, resplendent in black dress robes with embroidered serpents that caught the torchlight, stood Severus Snape, his normally lank hair brushed to silkiness and his black eyes resting soberly on Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he purred, offering his arm. "I know this is rather late notice, but may I have the honor of escorting you to the ball?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, removing her arm from Neville's, her brown eyes shining as she looked up at the wizard. Snape moved forward, stood beside her and link her arm within his own.

"You may go about your business, Mr. Longbottom. Miss Granger is in capable hands," he said to Neville, never taking his eyes off the witch beside him.

Neville continued to stare for a moment, before he snapped out of it.

"Oh. All right, then. I'll just . . . just go get Luna," he said, looking at the both of them as they stared at each other as if he were invisible. "Um . . . I'll see you at the ball, Hermione."

"Yes, Neville," Hermione responded rather dreamily.

Neville backed away a few feet before turning and walking up the hall.

Wow, Professor Snape was taking Hermione to the ball.

There was going to be a powerful breeze from all the tongues that would be wagging.

Neville began to smile as he walked, a slow, rather happy smile.

So what if tongues would wag? Hermione was probably going to have the most romantic night of her life. And she deserved it. Snape was all right, Slytherin he was.

Neville's thoughts turned to Luna. His night wasn't going to be so bad either.

* * *

"Shall we go, Miss Granger?" Snape asked the witch on his arm.

"Yes," Hermione replied, her belly fluttering as they began to walk. "You look very nice, Professor."

"And you are absolutely breathtaking, Hermione Granger," he said softly, although he eyed the Gryffindor colors, "although I do feel as if I'm being challenged. Perhaps I should have worn Slytherin green robes tonight to represent my house."

Hermione smiled at him rather shyly.

"Oh, no, Professor. Black becomes you," she told him.

Snape smirked at her.

"So I've been told," he replied, leading her to the shifting stairwell and the waiting ball.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	39. Arriving at the Ball

**Chapter 39 Arriving at the Ball**

The Great Hall was decorated in a very understated manner this year, although Albus still insisted on releasing the little golden cherubs he used on every occasion. The tiny angels flitted about, sparkling when the light hit them.

Snape referred to them as "bloody mosquitoes."

Round tables of various sizes covered in white tablecloths with floral centerpieces were arranged strategically, leaving room in the center of the hall for dancing. White candles floated overhead, lending the room a warm glow.

Food and libations were arranged on long tables where guests and graduates could serve themselves buffet-style. House elves maintained the tables, sitting underneath them so as not to be obtrusive. For the first time, students, or graduates rather, wouldn't have to spike the punch. Beer, wine and Firewhiskey were readily available to them now. However, having their parents present would serve as a good deterrent to over-imbibing.

Since the graduates were basically the Age of Consent, there were no chaperones this time, but students and their parents or guardians sat together, grouped according to who was escorting who.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were sitting with the Potters and the Browns, since Harry was escorting Ginny and Ron was with Lavender. At another table, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa were sitting with the Parkinsons, Lucius looking rather bored as Pansy's father tried to interest him in investing in his broom design business.

The Grangers sat alone since Hermione was supposed to be going stag, but there were four chairs at the table, so Snape and Hermione would be joining them.

The two dentists each had a small plate of appetizers in front of them, as well as glasses of a pale orange drink that seemed quite popular.

"I think it was very nice of Professor Snape to offer to escort Hermione to the ball tonight," Jean Granger said to her husband as they sat at a table on the edge of the dance floor. John was irritably waving his hand at a tiny golden cherub that seemed to have taken a liking to him. "And it was nice of you to agree."

John batted the pesky little angel away from him, then frowned at his wife.

"I didn't agree . . . you did, Jean. I didn't have a chance to say anything," he grumbled. "He offered and you just blurted out 'That would be wonderful!'"

"Well, it's better than Hermione coming alone," Jean replied with a smile. "He looks daunting John, but he has a very protective aura about him. He seems very trustworthy. Besides, he's going to be working very closely with her."

John snorted.

"An 'aura' eh? Trustworthy? Right," he said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice and making a face. "What is this stuff? Liquid squash with sugar?"

Jean looked a little worried, ignoring her husband's complaint.

"I hope Hermione doesn't feel embarrassed that he asks to accompany her," she said. "She might think he just feels sorry for her . . . and then, there's the other students . . ."

"Well, she can always say no," John replied, heartened by the possibility.

Snape seemed to be an all right chap, but still . . . despite her age, Hermione was his little girl and would always be.

"I don't think she will," Jean replied, "she's a very polite young woman. We'll just have to wait and see."

Several tables over, James and Lily Potter sat watching the graduates file in, James in black dress robes and Lily in a dark green ball gown that offset her eyes. Molly was wearing a gold gown, with a matching shawl, and a tiara. She was tasting tidbits of food and making comments about it.

"These wings are a bit dry, Arthur," she said as she placed a glazed chicken wing back on the plate. "I'm not saying the house elves aren't good cooks, but the food could be better."

Arthur nodded in agreement, although he though the food was fine.

Lily smiled at Molly, having an idea.

"Molly, you're such a wonderful cook . . . maybe you could cater a couple of the balls next year. I bet Albus would be all for it," she suggested.

Molly's eyes lit up.

"That's a wonderful idea, Lily. I could earn a few galleons at that," she responded. "Doesn't that sound wonderful, Arthur?"

"Yes, dear. It's a wonderful idea," he agreed smiling at her.

James had his eyes locked on the double doors, watching for Harry and Ginny. He declined to sign any autographs this time, learning from his mistake at the Christmas Ball. Tonight he was an ordinary father celebrating his son's graduation. And he really was proud of Harry. He received good marks . . . not exceptional, but still quite good. He also received an award for his Quidditch skills. At home, Harry had a number of inquiry letters from teams interested in recruiting him for the minors. It seemed James Potter's firstborn son would be following in his footsteps after all, despite their differences.

"Oh, there's Ron!" Molly exclaimed as Ron entered the Great Hall with Lavender, and headed straight for the buffet. He was wearing black dress robes. They were a little worn from being passed down, but he looked presentable enough.

"Don't they look nice!" Molly said, craning her neck as Ron released a scowling Lavender, grabbed a plate and started piling food on. Lavender watched with her hands on her hips for several moments before she snatched the plate out of Ron's hand and started putting the food back as Ron protested.

"Lavender, it's my last meal at Hogwarts," the redhead said, his eyes a bit watery as Lavender put the food back. "Have a heart."

"It's your heart I'm worried about Ron. Every artery you have is going to be clogged with fat if you keep eating like this," she replied, retrieving a clean plate and picking out a few carrot sticks to start with.

"It's not going to happen overnight, Lavender," Ron argued.

Lavender dropped a piece of broccoli on his plate and said softly, "Ron, if you keep this up, that won't be the only thing that won't be happening overnight."

Ron's mouth snapped shut for a moment. Lavender had promised him a shag tonight, with all the trimmings if he behaved himself, even buggering. He loved buggering Lavender . . . good and hard.

"How about some vegetable dip to go with those carrot sticks?" he asked as Lavender gave him a self-satisfied little smirk and focused on selecting his food.

Ron's eyes went a bit dark as he watched her. Lavender might feel as if she'd won a victory, but she hadn't won the war. She'd see who'd be smirking later when she was ass up, head down.

Ron could be a vindictive bugger in more ways than one. There'd be some howling tonight, and the only moon involved would be Lavender's.

"There's Harry and Ginny," Lily said with a smile as they entered the Great Hall, along with Draco and Pansy. Ginny was dressed in a simple but elegant green gown, with thin straps and a slit up the side. Tiny florets decorated the seams. Her red hair was out, slightly curled and she looked lovely on Harry's arm. Both Harry and Draco wore Slytherin green dress robes trimmed with silver.

"Over here, Ginny!" Molly called waving her arms.

Ginny looked around, then saw her and smiled. Harry smiled as well. Whenever the Weasleys were around, he was on his best behavior. They walked over and Ginny gave her mother and father a kiss. Harry kissed his mum and greeted his father, then the Browns, who nodded politely. They were a very quiet, but friendly couple.

"You both look so nice together," Molly said, smiling at them as Harry pulled out Ginny's chair, which was next to Arthur. He slid it back in when she sat down.

"Would you like some punch, Ginny?" he asked her politely as Lily smiled at his gallantry.

"Yes, thank you, Harry," Ginny replied.

Harry looked at his mum, who was smiling at him openly, very pleased.

"Can I bring you something too, mum?" he asked her, giving her a slight smile back because it was so obvious she was pleased with him. Despite their difficulties, deep down every boy loves his mum. Harry was no different when it came down to it. Besides, he had been very moved when his mum hugged him, crying buckets when he graduated.

"Oh, stop crying, mum," he murmured as she cried into his shoulder after the ceremony.

"I'm just so proud of you, Harry," Lily gulped, caressing his hair like he was a little boy. When she finally released him, his father shook his hand firmly.

"Congratulations, son. It's been a long road, and I was a little worried about you . . . but . . . you did fine. Just fine. I'm proud of you, too," James told his son. "Very proud."

It had been a nice moment for their family, and a hopeful one. Maybe they could work on mending the broken bridges now. This was a start.

Lily smiled at her son.

"Oh, no, Harry. I don't want anything to drink, but thank you for asking," she replied. Harry then checked with Molly and Lavender's mother, both of whom declined.

He left to get Ginny's punch.

"Such a polite young man," Mrs. Brown said softly. "You've raised him well."

Lily flushed with pleasure as James gave her a small smile.

"Thank you," he said

They made small talk, and Ron and Lavender joined them.

Neville and Luna were sitting with their parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom and Luna's dad, Xenophilius Lovegood, who was dressed in bright yellow dress robes. They were chatting animatedly, Xenophilius regaling them with tales of searching for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in different areas of the world, from the Himalayas to the shores around the Dead Sea. He was quite an interesting man.

"After all that climbing, all we ran into was a tribe of Yetis," Xenophilius complained to his companions. "It was quite disappointing."

"It must have been," Alice agreed, fascinated.

* * *

Hermione and Professor Snape had caused quite a stir among the other graduates as they descended the shifting stairwells arm in arm. Everyone was staring at them and whispering. Hermione held her chin high as she walked with the wizard, determined not to be embarrassed.

"I hope you don't find our being scrutinized embarrassing, Hermione," he said to her softly as couples parted before them with wide eyes.

"No, I don't, Professor," she replied, thinking there was going to be a lot more scrutiny once their relationship got started. "Why would I be embarrassed to be going to the ball with a wizard as brilliant as you?"

Snape looked at her soberly.

"Yes, but I am a far cry from a handsome, dashing young wizard," he replied softly. "I understand every young witch wants to be seen with someone . . . attractive. Your peers might . . ."

"You are attractive to me," Hermione said firmly, cutting him off, her brown eyes meeting his. "My 'peers' can go sod off!"

However, Snape's "peer" comment made Hermione think of something else. Someone else . . .

She stalled on the first floor landing, the other couples walking around them and looking back curiously as they descended the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

"What is it, Hermione?" Snape asked her, noticing she had gone pale.

"My . . . my father. He's not going to like this at all. He wanted to meet you . . . and . . . oh, he's going to have a bugbear if I walk into the ball arm and arm with you. He's going to automatically assume you're . . ."

"He did meet me. This afternoon, both he and your mother," Snape told her. "I gave them a tour of my lab and your quarters . . . "

Hermione's eyes went round.

"My quarters? I have quarters? But . . . but I thought I was going to stay with you . . ." she said, disappointment in her voice.

Snape gave her a slight smile and patted her hand.

"Technically, you will be staying with me. Your quarters are right off my study," the wizard replied. "The Headmaster kindly adjusted the castle's building design, and I supplied everything else. You are entitled to some privacy, Hermione. You also have a private study and a lab of your own, although you will mostly be working in my lab the first two years."

"My . . . my own lab?" Hermione squealed, causing even more couples to look up at them on the landing.

"Sssh, witch. We're drawing enough attention as it is, but yes, you have your own lab. Now, let us go. We can discuss this at a later time," Snape said to her gently.

Hermione let the Potions master lead her down the stairs and toward the Great Hall as if she were in a dream. When they reached the ground floor, Hermione suddenly stalled again.

"My father . . ." she said tremulously.

"Don't worry about your father, Hermione," Snape told her. "Everything will be fine. All I ask is that you trust me."

Hermione looked up into the Potions master's face and all her fears seemed to drain away as she met his dark eyes. He'd never let anything or anyone hurt her . . . she could feel that certainty deep inside.

Hermione drew in a steadying breath, then said firmly, "I do trust you, Professor, and I'm ready to face my father and anyone else. Let's go."

"Ah, once again that oft questionable Gryffindor bravado rises to the fore," he said softly as they passed through a slew of whispering graduates. Snape stopped and pulled open one of the Great Hall's double doors.

He paused, looking down at Hermione with clear approval.

"I have to admit, in some cases, it can be an asset."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	40. The Ball

**Chapter 40 The Ball**

When Hermione and Severus entered the Great Hall, Hermione clutching his arm and the wizard clearly escorting her, the volume of chatter dropped considerably. On the dais, Minerva McGonagall elbowed Albus, who was chatting with Poppy.

"Oof! Yes, Minerva?" the Headmaster said.

Minerva didn't reply but pointed. Albus followed her extended and slightly shaking finger to see Severus and Hermione walking through the Great Hall, heading for her parents table arm in arm. Hermione looked lovely and Severus was dressed to the nines.

"Ah, Severus has finally brought a date to the Graduation Ball. It's about time," Albus said with a smile. "Good for him."

Minerva frowned at him.

"What do you mean 'good for him,' Albus! That isn't a date . . . that is a student!" Minerva hissed.

Albus adjusted his glasses and looked at Hermione a bit closer.

"No, Minerva. That is not a student. That is a graduate," he said firmly. "There are no rules about a teacher taking a graduate to a Ball. It's done all the time, actually."

"Yes, but they've been out of school for years in that case, Albus. Miss Granger only graduated today. I doubt if her bags are even packed," Minerva said, frowning blackly as Hermione kissed both her parents in greeting, and Severus drew out a chair the young witch.

"That makes no difference, Minerva. Miss Granger is no longer a student at this school and Severus is well within his rights to escort her if she'll have him. And obviously, she will have him. Now, stop clucking and have some wine," the Headmaster said.

Minerva made a little "harrumphing" noise and sipped some wine, her eyes not leaving the couple.

Minerva wasn't the only one staring at the unlikely couple. From their table, both James and Lily were staring at the Potions master and the young witch accompanying him.

"Who is that with Severus?" Lily asked. "She looks young enough to be his daughter."

She frowned slightly as she eyed Hermione, who was smiling and looked absolutely lovely as she talked with her parents. Severus collected everyone's glasses and made his way to the libations table.

Molly stared as well.

"That's just scandalous. Obviously, he's snatched up some inexperienced young student," she said, frowning in disapproval. "He should be sacked."

"That's Hermione Granger. She's a Gryffindor," Harry said, also staring, his eyes dark. "She's going to be his apprentice."

They watched as she spoke to her parents, her face lighting up.

"Looks like she's going to be more than that," James said, frowning. "I wouldn't trust him with my daughter, that's for sure."

Murmured agreement rose from around the table, except from Harry and Ginny. Ron was staring over at the table with narrowed blue eyes, and Lavender was watching him closely, secretly glad Hermione was with Professor Snape. Maybe now, Ron would stop lusting after her.

James continued to frown. He still disliked Snape, for a number of reasons.

How did the greasy bat manage to get such a pretty young witch to accompany him? He must have used his position, coerced her in some way. Surely, she wasn't pleased to be with him. He was twice her age. Maybe she couldn't get a date.

Lily didn't say anything as she watched Severus return with a plate of appetizers and four drinks floating in front of him, flicking his wand and deftly setting them down in front of each intended imbiber. The dark wizard pulled out a chair next to Hermione and sat down, speaking to the young woman's father and shaking his hand. Lily noticed that there seemed to be an age difference between the witch's parents as well, although her father was in very good shape for a Muggle.

"Yes, Mr. Granger, I imagine a Stout would be more palpable to your palate than pumpkin juice, which is an acquired taste," Snape said to John Granger, who took an appreciative swig of the thick brew.

"Definitely a taste I haven't acquired, Mr. Snape. Thank you," the burly Muggle responded.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Snape," Jean also responded, sipping the wine he brought back appreciatively. "Pumpkin juice just doesn't do it for me."

Snape had brought a Firewhiskey for himself, and punch for Hermione. He also brought her a selection of appetizers. Jean surreptiously studied her plate. It was a nice balance between meat, fresh vegetables and sweets. John Granger eyed a rather small, sweet looking yellow cream cake on Hermione's plate.

He was a dentist, but he had a mean sweet tooth. Hermione saw him looking at it.

"Would you like my cake, dad? I'm not going to eat it," she said, sliding the plate closer to him.

"Why, thank you, kitten," John said, picking up the cake as Jean scowled at him.

"Now, John . . . " she started in.

"Oh, come now, Jean. It's just a little cake," he said to her, taking a bite of it and chewing blissfully.

Suddenly, he turned into a large, yellow canary.

"John!" Jean screamed as her husband fluttered his large wings wildly, feathers flying.

"Oh my gods! That was a canary cream!" Hermione exclaimed, "How did that get in there?"

Obviously, some of the graduates thought it would be funny to slip in a couple of the sweet joke treats, provided by Fred and George's Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Joke Shop.

"It will wear off momentarily, Mrs. Granger," Severus assured her as people laughed all around them. A few large, squawking canaries were scattered about the ballroom, all victims of the joke.

Suddenly, John's feathers fell off, and he was back to himself.

"What the hell is going on here?" he roared, as both Hermione and Jean sucked their lips in to keep from laughing at him.

"I'm afraid you were the victim of a prank, Mr. Granger. That cake was a joke cake. It turned you into a canary for a minute or two. But it is relatively harmless," the Potions master assured him.

John glanced around at the chuckling crowd and saw several other canaries of various sizes flapping their wings at the table. Lucius Malfoy just molted and looked positively murderous.

"If I ever find the little bastard who did this . . ." the blonde wizard hissed to his wife.

"I think I need a food taster," John Granger muttered as Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth in a further effort to keep from cracking up. Even Snape's mouth was slightly quirking as he, too, held in a chuckle.

"I told you not to eat it, John," Jean said, her mouth quirked.

John didn't answer her, but took a sip of his stout and looked sullen.

Music began to play, heralding the start of the ball proper. It was a waltz. Everyone remained seated however, waiting for some couple to start the dance. Albus and Minerva walked out on to the floor and led it off.

Neville looked at Luna excitedly.

"Care to dance, Luna?" he asked the witch, who was wearing a wispy pink gown and a large pink bow in her hair. Around her neck was a string of matching pink bottle caps.

"Certainly, Neville," she replied, and he took her hand and led her onto the floor, spinning her deftly before gently drawing her against him. Neville loved to waltz. He thought it was romantic and it gave him a chance to hold Luna close.

More people rose and walked to the dance floor, Hermione watching them wistfully. Jean studied her daughter, then her eyes flicked toward Snape, who was quietly watching the dancers. Then his dark eyes shifted to Hermione for a moment, then back to the dancers.

John was still sulking. Jean cleared her throat.

"How about we all have a dance?" she suggested.

Hermione perked up immediately, but John scowled.

"I don't feel like dancing," he groused.

"Well, I do. Unless you want me to go pick out some handsome wizard to trip the light fantastic with, I suggest you get up," Jean said to him pointedly.

John looked at his wife. In her white off-the-shoulder gown, she looked quite lovely. No doubt these wizards would line up to dance with her if she made herself available. They had been married for years, but John Granger was very jealous of his petite wife.

He stood up and gently pulled out her chair.

"Leave it to you to resort to blackmail," he said to her gruffly, but his eyes were full of affection as he took her hand and drew her up.

"Whatever works," she replied with a smile, then looked at Hermione and Snape. "Come along, you two."

John led her to the dance floor.

Hermione looked after them, slightly flushed, but not wanting to meet Snape's eyes. She had never seen him dance at any ball since she arrived at Hogwarts. But she could feel him looking at her. She looked down at her hands.

"Would you like to dance, Hermione?" the wizard asked her silkily.

Still not looking at him, Hermione replied, "Ah . . . no, that's all right, Professor. You don't have to dance with me."

"But I would like to dance with you, Hermione," he said softly, "very much."

Hermione looked up at him, hope in her eyes.

"You would?" she asked him.

Snape's dark eyes drifted over her slowly, making her insides feel like mush as they returned to her face, glittering slightly.

"Yes, I would," he responded, rising slowly and taking her hand, drawing out her chair.

Hermione felt as if she were in a lucid dream as Snape led her out to the dance floor, seeing the faces of people turning toward her in slow motion surprise as the music swelled around her. She felt him draw her close, one warm hand resting on her waist, the other gripping her hand lightly, his fingers entwined in her own, the first real contact between them since that night so long ago. It felt wonderful to be so close to him, to feel him touching her, moving her, leading her easily as they danced.

There seemed to be no one else in the world as she looked up into the Potions master's sober face, those dark eyes seeming to see inside her as they whirled across the floor between the other dancers, Snape's robes billowing slightly, Hermione's dress flowing prettily. They danced together as if they had done so all their lives.

Jean and John were watching them, Jean's eyes soft as she saw the dreamy look in her daughter's eyes as she looked up at the dark wizard. John was watching too, and as protective as he was, it was easy to see that his daughter was smitten with her professor.

In fact, anyone who had eyes could see that Hermione Granger and Professor Severus Snape, had something between them, something that superseded age and position. It was as if there was only the two of them in the entire world.

The music changed, now more modern. The dancers adjusted accordingly, changing their steps to fit the slow song lilting in the air. Snape spun Hermione and dipped her, their eyes locked for a moment before they resumed dancing.

"Dance closer, Jean," John murmured.

"John," Jean protested.

"I want to dance with my daughter," he said softly as they made their way over to the dancing couple.

Jean and John stopped dancing, and the Muggle tapped Snape on his shoulder. The wizard automatically frowned, then his expression sobered as he saw Hermione's father standing there, looking him in the eye.

"May I cut in?" he asked the wizard.

"Certainly, Mr. Granger," Snape said with a bow, releasing Hermione and watching as her father took his place. Then he looked at Jean.

"May I have this dance, Mrs. Granger?" he asked her with a slight bow.

Jean smiled.

"Certainly, Mr. Snape," she said, taking his hand.

* * *

Hermione danced with her father, but her eyes were on Severus, dancing with her mother. John studied his daughter.

"Do I have to be worried?" he asked her softly.

Hermione looked up at him as if he'd just suddenly materialized out of thin air.

"What, dad?" she asked him.

"I asked you if I have to be worried," he said to his daughter again as they danced through the crowd.

"About what, dad?" she asked him, not comprehending the nature of his question.

"I was worried about Snape," her father told her gently. "About his motives. But I can see that you are interested in him, Hermione. I know that look. Your mother used to give it to me when we danced. You love that wizard, don't you?"

Hermione flushed, but didn't say anything. John sighed and drew her closer.

"Yes, you do. And he appears to be just as in love with you," he said to her. "History's repeating itself, I'm afraid. I just wish . . . it would have taken a bit longer. You're so young, Hermione."

"I know," she murmured, her head resting against her father's broad chest. She could hear his heart beating.

"I have to ask you this, Hermione. Has he . . . has he ever touched you? Are you already involved with him?" John asked her.

Love or not, if Snape had taken advantage of his daughter as his student, there would be hell to pay.

"Oh no, daddy. He's never touched me in my life," Hermione told him truthfully.

Well, relatively truthfully. When they had slept together, technically she hadn't been born yet. The lines were a bit fudged, but there it was.

John studied her face for signs of untruth. He didn't see any. He might not be up on everything, but he could still catch Hermione in a lie.

"That's good, kitten," he replied. "Now, I can't tell you what to do, but . . . take it slow. It can be hard to maintain a relationship when the ages are so far apart. He's not a boy, Hermione. You have to be sure this is what you want and will probably have to work to make it work. Your mother and I had a lot of ups and downs when we first began dating. A lot of adjustments to make. We each had to make concessions."

Hermione smiled up at her father.

"But it worked out, didn't it, dad?" she said to him.

John Granger looked over at his wife, who was talking to Snape as they danced.

"Yes. Yes, it did, kitten. We've been very happy together," he replied.

"Hopefully, we will be too, dad. Thank you for not blowing up," Hermione said to him.

John rolled his eyes.

"Like that would have helped anything," he said resignedly. "But now, I know how your grandfather felt."

"Oh dad," Hermione said, rising to her tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek. He gave her a rather sad smile, and they continued to dance.

* * *

Jean and Snape danced around the floor, the Muggle looking at him quizzically. The wizard noticed immediately.

"You and your daughter share the same facial expressions, Mrs. Granger. Is there something you wish to ask me?" he asked her silkily, spinning her and giving her a little dip that made her titter before drawing her back up.

"Actually, no. There's something I want to tell you," Jean replied, looking at him soberly.

"By all means, continue," Snape said, an eyebrow arched.

"Treat her well, Professor," Jean told him, "and if it doesn't seem possible for it to work out, let her go quickly and cleanly. First loves can be painful for a young woman. And to fall in love with an older man, then lose him, can be devastating. But, I know what she feels. I was the same way for John."

Snape studied the Muggle.

"If it is meant for us to be together, Mrs. Granger, be assured no man will ever treat a woman better than I will treat your daughter. She is a jewel among women and I've waited many years to find someone like her," he said sincerely. "I only hope that she will accept me. I'm not the most handsome man in the world. There are younger, more attractive wizards at every turn."

Jean smiled at him.

"It takes more than looks to keep a heart, Mr. Snape. Looks might snag one, but there is little to keep one once the novelty is gone. There are other aspects much more alluring and permanent, other connections that last a lifetime long after the beauty fades. Connections based on respect, concern, honesty and communication. I believe you have a one-up on this, Mr. Snape. Hermione obviously sees more to you than your looks, although . . . they aren't too bad as far as I can see. Your face has character. I think my grandchildren will be passable, if there are indeed grandchildren and your motives are honorable."

Snape nodded.

"They are, Mrs. Granger, I assure you."

"Good," she said. "Now, one more turn around the floor? I like that dip."

"Of course," Snape replied, a slight smile on his pale face as they danced away into the crowd.

* * *

A/N: Siiiigh I just couldn't let things go terribly for them, not after all they've gone through to keep things above board and proper. I think the Grangers having a May/December relationship of their own helped them to be understanding concerning Hermione and Snape. It's better to have a blessing than a curse. I might have gone a bit fluffy here, but . . . it is a pretty fluffy story overall. Lol. I'm a honeybun. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	41. A Final Confrontation

**Chapter 41 A Final Confrontation  
**  
The rest of the night went quite well, Snape having to let Hermione dance with other graduates, although he didn't let the dances go on too long, particularly when Ron cut in, Lavender looking at him furiously from their table.

Ron held her just a little too tightly and a little too closely.

"So, you're shagging Snape?" he asked Hermione by way of starting a conversation as the Potions master watched them dance with narrowed eyes, seeing Hermione blush furiously. But the witch had her own little comeback. She was tired of Ron.

"Not yet, but soon," she replied, making Ron go a bit red himself. "He's brilliant, and mature and would never ask a witch he was dancing with who she was shagging, unlike you, you git."

"He's ugly as a bugbear's bottom," Ron said nastily, "and old enough to be your father."

"I don't think he's ugly," Hermione said loftily, "and it's what I think that matters, isn't it? And as for his age, it doesn't matter. It's how he'll treat me that does. And when he gets mad, he won't run home crying to mummy."

"I don't do that!" Ron exclaimed.

"Right. You've sent owls to your mum all year, Ron. I've heard about it, telling her what Lavender's doing to you and asking for advice instead of trying to figure things out for yourself! You're a mummy's boy."

Ron's eyes narrowed, and he tightened his hold on Hermione.

"I'll show you a mummy's boy," he growled, then suddenly went pale as Snape's contorted visage appeared behind Hermione.

"May I cut in, Mr. Weasley?" he purred, his eyes hard as diamond.

"Um . . . yeah," Ron said, quickly releasing Hermione and hurrying back to his table.

Snape took Hermione gently in his arms and began to dance with her again.

"Was Mr. Weasley giving you a difficult time?" he asked her softly, although the look in his eye belied his gentle question.

"He's . . . he's a little jealous," Hermione said, "he has a bit of a crush on me."

"I see," Snape said, looking over at Ron's table, where the redhead was getting a bit of a low level tongue-lashing from Lavender. Ron quickly pulled out her chair and brought her to the dance floor, pulling her close and trying to talk her out of her angry mood.

Lily and James were dancing as well, Lily resting her head on James' shoulder, but watching Severus with Hermione, noting his solicitous body language as he danced with the young witch. It was clear to see this just wasn't a matter of escorting her. The dark wizard was invested. He was much older now, but Lily remembered when he looked at her that way. She used to lead him around by his big nose because he was so smitten. She had liked him, their contrast always made her look good, made her feel special because he wouldn't interact with anyone else like he did with her.

But he was certainly interacting now. And after all these years, Lily felt a twinge of jealousy. Why? She didn't know. She didn't know that she was jealous really, but she didn't like seeing him with Hermione in his arms, young, attractive and clearly smitten with him, not afraid of being seen as interested, not ashamed of his looks or his age or his house. Harry had said she was a Gryffindor. And she didn't give a damn he was a Slytherin or her former teacher.

Appearances had always mattered to Lily. When she and Severus had sex, she never told a soul and made him promise not to either. He gave his word, and he never did reveal it to anyone. Back when it occurred, Severus felt as if Lily were the most wonderful, sexy witch in the world who gave him the most precious gift in the world, but if one was to ask him about her today, he'd probably respond that she was just an air-headed bit of fluff with delusions of specialness who happened to spread her legs for him one night on a whim.

And that it meant nothing.

The night might have been perfect if not for an inebriated Albus rising at the dais and insisting that all those on the floor participate in a "getting to know you" dance, where the music didn't end until each person danced with every other person on the floor. To make sure no one exited the dance floor, he placed a magical perimeter around it.

"I won't be moving that until you aaaall daaaaance," he said with a slight slur. "Now, make a big circle everyone, and start dancing. When the music pauses, all wizards move to the partner on their right. The perimeter will be taken down when you return to your original partners."

"Gods damn it," Severus mumbled, he and Hermione caught within the perimeter. There were about fifteen couples on the floor. Jean and John looked on, having taken a breather.

"That looks fun," Jean said wistfully as the music started and John sipped on another stout. He looked at Snape, who was frowning blackly and chuckled.

"I don't think everyone thinks so, Jean. Look at Snape," he told his wife, who looked over at the wizard, holding Hermione rather possessively now.

"Ha, he doesn't want to hand her over to anyone," she said with a smile.

That wasn't completely true. But he saw Lily and James Potter and that meant interaction that he could really do without. But Hermione was smiling, so he went along with it as the music started. Unfortunately, Molly Weasley was next in line. Snape held her at arm's length and moved stiffly as she looked at him disapprovingly. Arthur, on the other hand, dipped Hermione with a fatherly smile, also keeping a good distance between them.

The next shift, Hermione came face to face with Lucius Malfoy, who arched an eyebrow at her.

"I see you like older wizards, young lady," he said to her with a smile, his gray eyes twinkling at her as he held her a bit closer than necessary, Narcissa shaking her head and smirking. Lucius was such a rake. Hopefully he wouldn't scare the little witch in his arms to death with his flirting.

Hermione blushing furiously, then gasped as Lucius dipped her, his lips almost coming in contact with hers before he let her up, flushed and breathing heavily.

"If only I were a single wizard," he purred.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, until she saw her next partner. It was Harry. He took her in his arms.

"Nothing going on with you and Snape, eh? Damn, Granger . . . you must be desperate," the wizard said to her.

"You don't think your Head of House should have a bit of love in his life? I thought you liked him?" she said to the wizard, trying not to think how close they were in the other timeline.

Harry blinked at her, a bit startled.

"Of course I like him . . . it's just that . . . that . . ." he said to her.

"It's just what, Harry? You don't think I'm good enough for him . . . or he's not good enough for me? Is that it?" she pressed.

"No! It's just . . . just weird, Granger . . . that's all. You two don't seem to fit at all," he said honestly.

"Maybe not the mold you have in your mind, but love doesn't work like that, Harry. And I'm telling you, despite your suspicions; he's never laid a hand on me since I've come to Hogwarts. Maybe we hid how we felt about each other, but he never once acted in any improper manner towards me. Ever. I've graduated now, so it's perfectly fine if we're together. And really, I don't care what you think," Hermione said, her eyes hard as they met his.

Harry just looked at her as they danced, taking in her determination and her honesty. She wasn't the least bit ashamed she was attracted to Snape, despite his looks and how old he was. And she didn't care what anyone thought either. Hm. Hermione really was all right. She was a Gryffindor, but at least she had a backbone.

Harry shrugged.

"Well, it's weird, but if you're happy and he's happy, then no one else has a right to say anything about it," Harry conceded.

Hermione smiled at him . . . and he gave her a small smile back.

"I guess you're not as much of a git as I thought, Harry Potter," she said softly.

"I have my better moments," he replied. Then, "I'm sorry about what I tried to do to you. I'm an idiot. Maybe I should have gone to Azkaban."

"You're a randy wizard," Hermione said, "No real harm was done."

"Thanks to Snape," Harry muttered, really feeling awful now, remorse in his face as he looked at the witch.

"Let's just forget about it . . . all right?" Hermione said to him, willing to wipe the slate clean. Neither of them knew what was going on when she appeared in his room dressed only in her bra and knickers. It was a strange moment. She could see Harry thinking she came on purpose, and he was a Slytherin after all. It was no excuse for what happened, but people made mistakes all the time. She was willing to put it behind her. As a matter of fact, she already had.

Harry was about to respond when the music paused. He and Hermione looked at each other, hesitated for a moment, then moved to their next partners, something left unsaid.

But that was all right.

They weren't friends, but . . . an understanding had been reached, and a kind of truce.

Fair enough.

The dancing continued, the dancers switching partners and coming closer to the end of the dance. Ron danced with Hermione, holding her so far away one would have thought she had a contagious disease, which was fine with both her and Lavender. He didn't say a word to her.

The music paused again.

James Potter watched as his wife Lily walked up to Snape. The music started and they stood there, looking at each other. The dark wizard didn't seem willing to engage her. Lily reddened as the others began dancing, then took his hand and placed his hand on her waist.

"Dance, damn you. You're embarrassing me," she hissed at the wizard, who barely moved, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

Hermione looked over at Snape with Harry Potter's mother, and suddenly she recognized her as the woman in the picture she had taken out of the wastepaper basket and torn off. She was older, but, those were the same green eyes and red hair. And by the way they were dancing, or not dancing, she could tell Snape didn't want to be with her in any manner.

James was watching them as well, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses at the wizard's treatment of his wife. He was purposely embarrassing her, looking at her as if she were dirt and acting as if he didn't even want to touch her.

"Why are you doing this?" Lily hissed at Snape as he shuffled his feet, an expression of distaste on his face. Harry was watching too, but he didn't make a move. He knew what his mother had done to Snape. Naturally, he wouldn't be happy to be dancing with her.

Well that was between them. He held to the Slytherin philosophy that every action has a consequence. His mother was facing hers. Instead of worrying over it, Harry concentrated on his partner, a rather heavy witch three times his age, who stepped on his foot and apologized.

"I'm doing nothing, Mrs. Potter, except biding my time until I can get you away from me," Snape replied quietly.

She blinked at him.

"Do you really hate me that much, Severus?" she asked him.

Snape's dark eyes grew even darker.

"Don't ask questions you don't really want to know the answers to, Mrs. Potter. The truth can be devastating," he replied. They were bumped by a dancing couple and moved over slightly.

Lily's eyes started to water, and James broke free of his partner and stalked toward them.

Hermione saw him, and left her partner as well. She was closer to them than James was and quickly ran up, tapping the woman on her shoulder.

"May I cut in?" Hermione said, her eyes cold as she looked at Lily. She didn't have anything against her really, only that her husband was on his way over, possibly to start a brawl. Snape released Lily, took Hermione in his arms and danced away with her, ignoring the blasted circle. Enough was enough.

James walked up to his wife, glaring after Snape and Hermione but unable to do anything. He looked at Lily's wet eyes.

"Are you all right? What did he say to you? I'll crack his greasy head wide open if he said anything to hurt you, Lily," James breathed, his hands clenched into fists.

Lily looked at her husband.

"He didn't say anything really, James," she said to him softly, "anything he had to say has been said already. That much is clear. Let's . . . let's just forget about him, all right? Harry's graduated, and we have no more children in Slytherin house. He doesn't have to haunt our memories anymore. This is the end of it."

"All right, Lily, if you're sure," James said, taking his wife into his arms.

"I'm sure, James," she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder as he spun her away.

* * *

A/N: I just had to have one more confrontation between Snape and Lily, to show that it was really over between them. Hermione stepping in was poetic justice in my estimation. Thanks for reading. 


	42. Ending the Night

**Chapter 42 Ending the Night**

The ball ended, and Severus and Hermione escorted the Grangers home, Apparating with them to Muggle London. As they walked across the Hogwarts grounds, wands lit, John Granger asked Hermione to join her mother because he wished to talk to the professor alone. Hermione did so, looking back at the two men nervously as they walked side by side, Snape with his hands behind his back, listening as her father gesticulated.

"What do you suppose they are talking about, mum?" Hermione asked her mother, who glanced over her shoulder at the two, then gave her a slight smile.

"What do you think, Hermione?" she asked her daughter.

Hermione blinked in the light of her wand.

"Me?" she asked softly.

"Right in one, Hermione. Most likely your father is setting down the rules, so to speak," Jean said as Hermione clasped her hand to her face.

"Oh mum, he's probably telling him not to touch me until I'm at least thirty," Hermione whined.

Jean chuckled.

"Hermione, your father isn't that naïve. He's probably just getting the measure of your professor's motives," her mother said.

"Motives?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes. If this is just a fling, or is he working toward something lasting," she said softly.

"Oh mum, no!" Hermione hissed, starting to turn around. Jean caught her by the arm.

"Let them talk, Hermione. This is a 'man' moment," she told her daughter.

Hermione walked beside her mother, feeling as if the entire world was about to end. Her father wasn't very strong in the tact area. He could be insulting Professor Snape at this very moment. But the two men talked in low tones all the way to the gate, then joined them outside, Snape taking Jean's arm and Hermione, her father's.

They Disapparated to Muggle London. Snape bowed to Mrs. Granger and shook Mr. Granger's hand firmly. Hermione kissed both her parents good-bye.

"Get my little girl back to the castle safely, Severus," Mr. Granger said to the pale wizard, his eyes glinting just a bit with something unsaid.

Snape nodded.

"Have no worries, John. I will escort her to Gryffindor tower myself," he promised.

"Good show," John said, "and good night to both of you."

"It was a wonderful night," Jean piped in, smiling at both of them.

"Yes," John said, looking down at his wife with a bit of a smirk. "And it's not over."

Jean blushed as John swung his arm around her shoulder and solicitously escorted her into the house. They heard a giggle as the door closed, Hermione smiling after them.

Snape arched an eyebrow at the closed door then turned to Hermione, who was looking at him curiously.

"John?" she inquired.

Snape smirked.

"Heart to heart talks have ways of breaking down boundaries, Hermione," he said to her softly as he took her arm. "Now, let me get you back to Hogwarts."

With that, they Disapparated.

* * *

"What did you and my father talk about?" Hermione asked the wizard as they walked arm and arm back towards the castle.

"A bit of this, and a bit of that," Snape said obliquely.

"You talked about me, didn't you?" she asked him directly.

Snape looked at her.

"Yes," he said softly, "among other things. Your father loves you very much. He knows of our attraction to each other, and he wanted to get the gist of things."

Hermione looked down at the ground a moment, disturbed that her father knew what was going on more than she did.

"And did you tell him?" she asked him.

"I told him what I could," Snape replied softly, "I'm not a seer. I have no idea what is ahead for us until it occurs. He settled for what I hoped would happen over time."

"And, what is it you hope will happen?" Hermione asked him.

His arm tightened around hers.

"I don't want to jinx it," he replied with a slight grin. Hermione held her wand up closer to his face and the wizard looked straight ahead.

"That's no kind of an answer," she said a bit angrily.

"It's all I can offer at the moment. Now come along. I have to get you back to Gryffindor tower," he said to her.

Hermione walked with him, struggling with her emotions. She had graduated now, and was no longer a student of Hogwarts. All she had in Gryffindor house were her things, which she'd be taking home tomorrow. She would be gone a full week, then would return to accompany Snape to meet the other Potions masters.

Then her apprenticeship would begin.

But there was no reason she had to go back to Gryffindor tower tonight.

None at all.

They entered the Entrance Hall and Snape started walking her toward the main stairwell, when Hermione stopped, refusing to go any further. Snape looked down at her.

"What's wrong, Hermione," he asked her.

Hermione's heart felt as if it were skipping beats as she steeled herself to tell him what was on her mind.

"I don't want to go to Gryffindor tower, Professor. I want to go with you, to your rooms," she said softly. "There's no excuse now. I've graduated. I can be with you. I want to be with you."

Snape looked down at her, his eyes softening.

"I'm no longer that impatient, randy young wizard you met all those years ago, Hermione. I'm not about to pounce on you just because I can," he told her gently. "There's something to be said for restraint. It makes things . . . better in the end."

Hermione frowned at him.

"Restraint? That's all we've been showing for the past several months, Professor . . . Restraint. I feel as if it's my middle name. No more restraint. I . . . I want to know . . . not to just . . . remember," she told him.

Snape's expression looked strained for a moment. Hermione pounced.

"Look, the way to the dungeons is right there . . . we just have to go down the stairs . . ." she said to him, her eyes glistening.

"Dear gods," the professor breathed, then resolutely he began pulling her up the marble staircase.

"No. This isn't fair," she said to the wizard, whose jaw was tightly clamped with determination as he pulled her along.

Hermione began to struggle, holding him back. He turned to her, his dark eyes glinting.

"All right," he growled through clenched teeth. "I see in order to keep my promise to your father, I'm going to have to do this the hard way."

Hermione let out a squeal as Snape reached down and grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder and stalking up the stairs as she kicked her legs.

"Put me down!" Hermione cried, outraged as Snape smirked.

This was rather fun.

Snape walked up the narrow stairwell that led to the second floor and the shifting stairwells, Hermione grabbing hold of the edge of every wall to stop him, and Snape tearing her hands away.

"You're quite the little spitfire," the wizard said as they mounted the first set of shifting stairs, Hermione still kicking.

"What promise to my father?" she finally asked him, calming, her legs dangling.

Snape was quiet for a moment.

"My promise that I wouldn't take advantage of you upon our return to the castle," he said softly, "and that I would take you directly back to Gryffindor tower. I gave him my word I would."

"You wouldn't be taking advantage of me," Hermione said, "I want to be with you. How can you take advantage of someone who wants to be taken advantage of? It's simply a matter of doing what's requested of you."

"Oh, it wouldn't be that simple, I assure you, Hermione," the wizard said thickly. "Besides, we still have the Meeting of the Masters. After that, when you are settled into your rooms and your role as my apprentice, we can deal with the other matters between us."

"That's going to take forever," Hermione said, her voice cracking with disappointment as Snape changed stairwells.

Snape put her down, and took both her hands.

"Listen to me, Hermione. We have other matters to take care of, matters that right now, occupy much of my mind. When the time is right for us, I want my mind clear . . . and my focus . . ."

The wizard paused, gently running his hand down her cheek, Hermione trembling at the contact.

". . . to be solely upon you," he finished.

"But . . . but . . ." Hermione said, shaking her head.

"Just be patient a little while longer, Hermione," he said to her, "it's an important ability to develop. Patience. A sign of maturity."

Hermione blinked up at him and what her father said came back to her. That Severus Snape was not a boy and concessions would have to be made if she hoped to have a relationship with him. She didn't want him to see her as a child, and she had to admit . . . she was acting like one. But it was so hard not to say what she wanted to say and do what she wanted to do with him after waiting for so long.

But she had to try to be patient as he asked.

"All right, Professor," she said softly, taking his arm again.

Severus nodded at her soberly and said, "You should start calling me Severus, Hermione. Our teacher/student association is over, although . . . you will call me Master as well."

Both of Hermione's eyebrows rose at this. Master? He wanted her to call him "Master?"

She'd heard about things like this . . .

"Because you will be my apprentice," Snape added hastily, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. The bit of heat in her eyes already suggested she was thinking impure thoughts. They started back up the landing, Hermione letting him lead her along.

They made it to the seventh floor and walked down the corridor.

On the stairwell below, Neville was riding up, looking dreamy, a smile plastered to his face. He had just come back from escorting Luna back to Ravenclaw, but they had taken a little detour at Luna's urging and spent a few minutes snogging.

He loved kissing Luna, and apparently the witch loved kissing him . . . and touching him as well. She made him feel so . . . so . . . he couldn't describe it, but he was sure he was in love with her. Very much so. Still, she was still sixteen and he didn't pressure her for anything other than the occasional kiss. He enjoyed her company and the sense of closeness he felt when he was with her. Of course, he wanted to be closer, but Neville had very cut and dry ideas of what was proper when courting a witch. He would make no move toward intimacy until Luna was of age and was ready to go further.

Besides, the anticipation was delicious.

He hummed a few strains of the waltz they first danced to as he changed staircases, then headed down the corridor toward Gryffindor house.

* * *

Snape and Hermione arrived at the sleeping portrait of the Fat Lady. They had been among the last to leave the ball, so by the time they returned, the halls were basically clear, although one could be sure graduates were scattered all about the castle in hiding places, finishing their night in each others' arms.

"Well, here you are, safe and sound," Snape said to the witch. "You were lovely tonight, Hermione . . . but then again, you are always lovely to me . . . even without . . . the warpaint."

"Warpaint? I hardly have on any makeup at all!" Hermione snapped at him.

Snape smirked. Hermione had spirit and he liked that she wasn't afraid to stand up to him. That was important in a relationship.

"The hour is late, it's time for you to retire," he said to the witch softly.

Hermione blinked up at him.

"At least a kiss?" she asked him softly. "One kiss at the end of the night? Or is that too much to ask of you?"

Already the hurt was apparent in her eyes. Snape looked down at her. Well, they were right in front of her house. He supposed he could allow himself one chaste kiss. Anything more would be playing with fire. She had no idea how hard it was for him not to take that left down to the dungeons with her.

"No, it's not, Hermione," he said, drawing her into his arms, and gently pressing his lips to hers. It was like molten fire where their mouths connected. Electric, stirring, both he and Hermione caught in the storm.

At last . . . some connection, some physical contact.

Snape gathered Hermione in his arms, trying not to crush her as the urge to get closer washed over him. He could have never taken her to his rooms and left her unscathed.

Hermione's entire body seemed to try to merge with the wizard holding her, kissing her, longing and desire rushing over her in a torrent. Gods, how could she be patient? How could he? Not when he made her feel like this.

They might have gone on kissing forever, except for the gasp behind them. Snape broke the kiss, his head turning and black eyes glittering as he released the panting witch.

Neville stood there, red and slightly greenish around the gills as he stared at the couple.

Snape looked back at Hermione, then lifted her hand and kissed it.

"Good night, Hermione," he said softly, a bit glad Neville had arrived when he did.

"Good night," Hermione replied, lowering her hand reluctantly and watching the wizard stride away.

"Good night, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said to the stricken Gryffindor as he passed him.

"G – good night, sir," Neville stammered, watching him walk down the hall and then turning to look at a dreamy-eyed Hermione, who had a little smile plastered to her face.

He walked up to her scowling.

"I told you I never wanted to see that!" he exclaimed.

Hermione snapped out of her dream-like state and scowled back at him.

"Shut up, Neville!" she said, punching him in the arm. "Let's just go to bed."

Neville woke up the Fat Lady and gave her the password, letting Hermione enter first, then following her up the short corridor.

"After seeing you two snog, I don't think I'll ever eat anything again," he groused, holding his stomach as Hermione smirked naughtily.

It had been quite a night.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	43. Preparing for the Meeting of the Masters

**Chapter 43 Preparing for the Meeting of the Masters**

* * *

**FOR STREAMING INTERACTIVE MUSIC THAT GOES WITH THIS CHAPTER:  
Visit chapter 43 of this story at: theburningpen . com and click the link.  
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**

* * *

Neville and Hermione stood in the Entrance Hall, Neville with a large duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. He wasn't going home. He was going to meet with Ikin Growum, a Plant master. He was going to be in the Amazon for the next four years straight, learning his art. Luna was going with him as a Quibbler junior reporter, to report on rare magical animals thought to dwell in the rain forest. No doubt they'd be very happy together.

Hermione and Neville stood looking at each other, knowing it would be a long time before they saw each other again. They were friends, and each of them were the first people outside of their immediate family to be loved by the other. There was a bond between them as strong as blood, and they were going to miss each other terribly.

"Hermione," Neville said thickly, "I hope you get everything you want out of life, everything you hope for . . . especially someone who cares about you half as much as I do. And if you ever feel down, remember that I . . . I love you and care about you, no matter where I am. You aren't alone in the world. Somebody loves you."

Hermione tried to blink back her tears as she looked up at her friend, but failed miserably as she ran into his arms, Neville's eyes wet as he embraced her tightly, sniffing her hair so he'd remember the jasmine scent she sometimes washed it with. Luna loitered some distance away to give the two friends privacy, pretending to press on the Hogwarts bricks, her blue eyes wet as well. Neville was leaving someone precious to him behind, and she felt his pain.

Neville and Hermione separated, each wiping their eyes.

"We're two big babies, aren't we Neville?" Hermione said, smiling up at him through her tears.

"Yeah," Neville agreed with a sniff. "Good thing Luna likes 'sensitive' wizards, or I'd lose her for being a wuss for sure."

Both he and Hermione laughed for a moment, then it trailed away and a heavy silence followed. Hermoine was the one to break it.

"This isn't goodbye, Neville," Hermione told him, "it's just 'See you later."

"Yeah," he said, beckoning Luna over.

Luna joined them, her eyes still wet.

"We'll see you, Hermione," she said to the Gryffindor softly.

Hermione and Luna never rose to the level of friendship to where they embraced, but the warmth in Luna's good-bye was evident.

Hermione nodded.

"You take care of him, Luna. I want him back in one piece in four years," she said to the Ravenclaw softly.

"I will, Hermione," Luna replied, looking up at Neville, whose eyes rested on his friend before shifting to Luna.

"We'd better go. I have to meet Growum in Hogsmeade by eleven," the wizard said.

"All right. Bye, Hermione," Luna said taking his arm.

"See you later," Neville said, giving Hermione a wave and a crooked smile before turning and walking out of the double doors, Luna in tow.

He didn't dare look back as he determinedly descended the stairs.

"See you later, Neville," Hermione whispered, walking to the stone staircase and standing there, watching the two walk across the grounds until she couldn't see them anymore.

Neville was gone, starting a new adventure and a new life. . . without her.

Just the way nature intended.

Hermione sighed and re-entered the castle. She had to get her own things and depart as well. She could have gone with Neville and Luna, but wanted to say her good-byes at the castle.

When she returned with what she hadn't sent by post, left them by the door and walked down into the dungeons to say goodbye to the Professor, but he didn't answer the door. Perhaps he was escorting some students to the Hogwarts Express. He was a member of staff after all.

Hermione left, hoping to see him down at the station.

She didn't, because Snape was sitting in his office and had heard her knocking.

He just . . . didn't answer.

After last night, he couldn't safely do another "good-bye."

* * *

The days dragged by as if weighted down by stones as Hermione waited to return to Hogwarts to start the next leg of her education.

And hopefully, something more with the wizard waiting there

She had packed up her belongings at home, all her books and clothing. It felt strange to do this. There was always some packing when she prepared to go to Hogwarts at the end of each summer, but nothing to this extent. It was as if she were clearing out. Some of her items she sent to the thrift shops, other's she packed away for storage so her bedroom was entirely empty. It was an odd feeling to be all grown up and starting out her adult life.

Jean Granger gave her bed linens as a house warming present, in her house colors of course, and her dad gave her a little charm bracelet.

"Dad, I'm not going to be able to wear this often. It will react with a number of potions ingredients," she told him when he asked her not to take it off.

"Well, keep it someplace you can see it," he responded, hugging her. "Maybe on your bedpost."

"John," Jean scolded him, "that's the last place a young woman wants something from her father dangling! It's . . . disturbing."

John shrugged.

"It was just a suggestion," he replied, looking taciturn.

Hermione didn't believe him for a second. It was meant to be a deterrent. She shook her head. John Granger may have on the surface accepted what might be in store for his daughter and the man she loved, but he wasn't going down without a fight. At least, a small one.

On the seventh day, Hermione was awakened early by a shriek, several squeals, a deep yell and a lot of noise downstairs as if there was a fight going on. Grabbing her wand, she raced down the stairs to find her mother and father beating up several house elves. Jean had a broom, and John had a huge toothbrush used for display purposes. They were batting the poor squealing creatures all around the living room.

"Mum! Dad! Stop it!" Hermione cried running down the stairs.

"Our house has been possessed, kitten! We'll hold them off, and you run and get Father O'Grady from the church down the street!" John yelled at her, batting a squealing elf against the wall. It slid down and disappeared behind the sofa.

"No! They aren't demons! They're house elves from Hogwarts! They've probably come to help move my things! Stop beating them!" Hermione cried.

Surprised and panting, the Grangers stopped their assault. Four aching house elves walked forward, and bowed to Hermione shakily.

"We comes for your things, Miss," one battered elf said to Hermione, not looking at the Grangers, who stared at the creatures in amazement.

"Right upstairs in the bedroom on the right. You'll find everything boxed up," she told the elves, then added, "I'm sorry about this."

The house elves all headed up the stairs, ears flattened as they took furtive, over-the-shoulder glances at the Grangers, then disappeared into Hermione's room.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her sheepish parents, both of whom were still holding their weapons defensively.

"Well, don't blame us! We didn't know what they were! They just . . . appeared while we were having breakfast," John said in their defense. "One squeaked something at Jean, and she grabbed the broom, chased them in here and I joined in. We have to protect our home, don't we?"

Hermione looked at her mother, whose hair was standing up all over her head, the sash to her robe had come open and was dragging on the floor, and she'd lost one fuzzy pink slipper during the fray. She blinked at her, then collapsed into laughter.

Her parents stood there a moment, then joined her.

The only ones who didn't think this a damn bit funny, were the house elves, who sullenly removed Hermione's things as quickly as possible so they could get back to nice, safe Hogwarts.

"Muggles is dangerous," one house elf said to the others as they winked out.

* * *

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts and let herself in, walking quickly across the grounds, her heart all aflutter at seeing Severus again. Maybe . . . maybe he'd give her a hello kiss.

She quickly entered Hogwarts and immediately felt subdued by the size and the silence of it. It felt cavernous without students to fill its halls. Her footsteps echoed as she walked through the Entrance Hall, past the marble staircase and down the narrow stairs that led to the dungeons. Torches spluttered and shadows flicker on the wall, making the area spookier than usual. Hermione hoped the Bloody Baron wouldn't put in a surprise appearance. He didn't . . . but someone else a thousand times more annoying did.

"Wandering 'round the dungeons, little witchy witch, sneaking about when the teachers is out! Naughty, naughty," Peeves, the resident poltergeist sang out, swooping down the corridor. He looked like a little man dressed in loud, outlandish clothes, with a bell covered hat and a spinning orange bowtie.

Peeves only purpose in his half-life was to wreak havoc by any means necessary. He wasn't a ghost, but a product of all the little naughty inclinations of the Hogwarts student body for centuries. Without him about to absorb their destructive energy and channel it, the students wouldn't be as well behaved as they were.

Hermione wasn't going to wait for Peeves to do anything. She whipped out her wand and pointed it at the poltergeist, her brown eyes hard.

"Peeves, you leave here right now, or I'm going to blast you into ectoplasm! You know how long it takes for you to reform," she threatened.

"Vicious little witchy-witch!" Peeves replied sullenly, his eyes on her wand tip. "Has no sense of humor."

He flew past her and down the hall without a look back.

Hermione looked after him, but kept her wand out.

He might return.

Hermione headed down the corridor quickly, stopped in front of the Potions office, and took a moment to compose herself. She was going to see the Potions master for the first time after the ball, and that sweet, sweet kiss. She knocked, and the door swung open a little. She pushed it open a little more.

"Severus?" she called, entering the dimly lit office.

"In here," the Potions Master's voice rang out. Hermione looked and saw that the wall on the far right was raised. Slowly she walked toward it, and peered in to see Snape standing in his study, putting items in a black satchel. A large, wrapped bundle was on the floor. She entered.

"I'm here," she announced. Snape looked up at her rather sternly.

"Good, now come over here," he ordered.

Hermione walked over to the sofa, and the wizard straightened, his eyes sweeping over her robes. There was no affection in his eyes, just focus.

"I need you to strip down to your bra and knickers," the wizard said.

Hermione looked around the room for the partition.

There was none.

"Where?" she asked him.

"Here, of course. Now, do it. We don't have a lot of time," he snarked at her.

"You want me to undress here?" she squeaked.

"Yes. Down to your bra and knickers. Take off your trainers and socks as well. Hurry," he told her, returning to his satchel.

Hermione slowly began to unbutton her robes, a bit self-consciously. This might have been a rather delicious act, except that the Potions master was all business and his order didn't seem to have anything to do with attraction or desire. Hermione thought her first time undressing in his rooms would be . . . romantic. But this?

Snape walked over to his books and withdrew two of them, returning and putting them into his satchel, then straightened and looked at Hermione as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, her bra-encased breasts falling into view.

He turned away quickly, fiddling with his bag again. When he next turned around, Hermione was standing before him, barefoot, only in her bra and knickers. Snape's dark eyes washed over her, and this time, there was heat in them, but only for an instant as he drew his wand.

"Stay very still," he said, muttering an incantation and slowly passing the wand over her limbs and contours, holding it very close as he slowly moved it over her curves without touching her. Still, it was a very intimate act, the wizard standing close to her, his eyes resting on her body. Hermione felt as if her skin was being covered with a light coat of paint as he continued, telling her to spread her fingers and turn up her palms, then making her lift her feet, kneeling and passing his wand under them. Finally, he seemed satisfied. He picked up her basilisk robes. A hood had been added to them.

"Put these on," he said gently.

"What? With no clothes beneath?" Hermione asked him.

"You will no longer wear clothing beneath your robes as my apprentice, only your underthings. Clothes can be restrictive in an emergency and there may come a time you need almost instant access to special access points on your body in order to save your own life. No apprentice or Potions master ever wears clothing beneath their robes," he told her. "And for the day, you will address me as 'Master Snape.' Am I understood?"

Hermione nodded slowly as she took the robes from him and slipped them on. He then handed her a very light, very ordinary-looking robe.

"Put that on over those," he said to the witch.

Once again, Hermione obliged him.

"Very good. Now, you are to draw up your hood, and you will keep it drawn until such time as I tell you to lower it. You are not to speak to anyone, even if they address you directly. Now put on your socks and trainers. We have to go and get settled in.

Hermione put on her socks and trainers as Snape checked his bag again.

"What did you do to me?" she asked him.

"Protected you. Potions masters can be very jealous of another's apprentice choice, and seek to . . . remove him before he can start his apprenticeship. It doesn't happen often, but has been known to. Try not to come in physical contact with them. If someone offers his hand, just nod politely, don't shake it. Try not to let your flesh come in contact with anyone else's. I've protected you but new poisons and piercing objects are created every day, so we're never sure what we're up against."

Hermione paled. This gathering sounded very dangerous. She hadn't thought it could be dangerous. They were all professionals. But by what Severus told her, this wasn't going to be a pleasure trip. Snape continued, his eyes somber as he looked at the witch.

"You will not eat or drink anything not specifically given to you by me, and if I do attempt to give you something, ask me something only I would know, to be sure it's me," he told her. "Take nothing at face value. Potions masters are not the noble lot many believe. They are petty and jealous of each other and wouldn't hesitate to poison you to get at me. So be aware. I want you to return with me at the end of the night. I'd hate to have to tell your father you didn't survive the meeting."

Hermione stared at the wizard, realizing he was very concerned about her.

"Is it always like this at the meeting of the Master's?" she asked him.

Snape fell silent, then said, "No. Not always. I'm just taking special precautions with you, Hermione. After your presentation, there will be a mingling session, and I am to let you wander about freely to show my faith in your abilities and so you can show your independence. I can't always be with you, but I will be watching you, believe me. The mingling only lasts about an hour. Then we'll be able to leave that place."

Hermione studied him.

"But why special precautions, Severus? What's so special about me?"

"Several things. Your courage. Your intelligence. Your academic accomplishments. Your sex," he said softly.

"My . . . sex? What's my sex got to do with anything. There are Potions mistresses," she said to him, not understanding.

Snape nodded.

"Yes, there are, but I am breaking tradition by taking on a female apprentice. In our field, traditionally males are trained by males and females by females. Most likely there will be an outcry, but I've checked and rechecked and there is no law among us that states a male master cannot take on a female apprentice. So, there are going to be a few angry Potions masters, I'm sure. They aren't going to want you to leave," he said softly.

Dear gods, was she going to be a target?

"I'd understand if you wanted to reconsider becoming my apprentice, Hermione. I am asking you to face great danger," he told the witch. "But there's a price for anything worth having. I never had to go through this, because I was self-taught and my skills tested. You don't have that luxury. I would spare you this if I could, but . . . it is tradition."

Hermione stared up at him, wondering what he would do if she did die.

"Severus, what if I don't survive? What if one of them gets to me," she asked him quietly.

Snape's eyes hardened.

"Then no one will leave that place alive, Hermione. Not myself, not a single Potions master. You will be avenged and without discretion," he breathed. "You are my life now, Hermione Granger. Without you, there is no need for me to draw another breath."

Hermione blinked up at him. That was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard in her life.

"Oh, Severus," she said softly, moving toward the wizard, who quickly thrust out his hands to halt her advance.

"We cannot kiss, Hermione," he told her gently. "Not here, not now. We have things to do."

"One kiss wouldn't hurt anything," she responded, "you didn't even kiss me hello."

Snape sighed.

"There's no Neville Longbottom here to break us apart, this time, Hermione. Based on my reaction to our last kiss, I don't believe it wise to engage in another, especially with us alone as we are. You try me, witch. Every time I'm in your presence alone. You test my determination, my strength, my reserve. Every part of me strains toward you as if you were a living magnet when we are in close proximity now. There is nothing left to keep us apart but our control. My control . . . since I know you would willingly walk into my arms and . . . into my bed right now if I gave in to my feelings."

"Yes, I would," Hermione said softly, "I so want to be with you again, Severus."

Snape closed his eyes and let out a long sigh before opening them. He looked at Hermione, his face contorted.

"The things you say, Hermione Granger. I've known practiced courtesans with practiced words meant to inspire and arouse a wizard to action, but not one of them spoke with your simple eloquence and honesty, or invoked my ardor and desire with so few words. Please, stop telling me this. Stop saying how much you want me, or you will break me. I don't want to be broken, witch. I need to retain my illusion of strength for just a bit longer. You threaten to bring me to my knees."

His voice sounded as if he'd swallowed down gravel, and Hermione could see an almost desperate plea in his eyes. She was torturing him, and she never even realized it.

"I won't say anything else about it . . . until after the meeting," Hermione told him.

"Tomorrow would be better," Snape said softly, relieved she was going to turn down the heat. More than likely, she never even realized how high she'd turned it up. Despite her loss of virginity, Hermione really was an innocent.

"No. After the meeting. When we return here," she stated firmly. She was willing to make some concessions, but not give up everything she wanted.

"Very well," Snape said, handing her the satchel, then picking up the large, wrapped object. "Let us go, apprentice. There are wizards to meet, and meetings to survive."

Snape exited the study, Hermione following, her heart still aflutter from his words. Such passionate, beautiful words.

Severus must love her. How could he speak to her the way he did, if he didn't?

Well, she planned to find out if he did tonight.

If she survived the meeting, that is.

* * *

A/N: Lol. I love having Hermione's mum attacking house elves. I've only done it once before, in "A Matter of Circumstances" when Jean, who was Jane in that fic, thought Eli was going to eat the baby. Lol. This time I had John join in. I hope I struck a little height on the romanto-meter with this chappie. I tried to think of the sweetest things Snape could say to her. At least what I'd like to hear if I was a young, overeager little witch pining for him. Sigh. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	44. The Meeting of the Masters

**Chapter 44 The Meeting of the Masters**

Hermione hurried to keep up with the Potions master's stride as they walked across the grounds of Hogwarts. She wanted to pull her hood down, but the wizard snapped at her to keep it up.

"We could be under surveillance," he said to her.

Snape wasn't about to take any chances his hand would be shown before he was ready. A touch of paranoia was a trait of any Potions master worth his brew. Snape didn't show it often, but he was as prone to it as anyone, more so now since he would be among his fellow masters.

The dark wizard wasn't a favorite among them in any case, because of the way he acquired his place among them. He was considered a rogue master, one who purposely flouted their treasured traditions.

Well, he wasn't going to win any awards today by bringing Hermione in their midst, that was for sure.

Hermione looked about surreptiously. No one could get on the Hogwarts' grounds that didn't belong there, although . . . she imagined a person could see across the landscape from the outside of the gates if he wished to observe the grounds.

She frowned slightly. All this cloak and dagger atmosphere was getting on her nerves. Who would have thought that becoming an apprentice would be so complicated? But, she did want to learn the subtle art of Potions, and if she had to be tried by the fire in order to do that, she was willing. Especially if it was Severus' fire.

That was worth facing a few ill-tempered masters in itself.

The wizard quickly unlocked the castle gates, let himself and Hermione out, then warded them back. He unceremoniously grasped her arm in preparation to Apparate, and Hermione let out a little gasp that made him realize that he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and may have hurt her. It wasn't Hermione's fault he was so tense.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Snape asked her apologetically, his dark eyes full of concern.

"No, no. It wasn't you," she said, her lip trembling slightly.

Snape studied her.

"Coming down with a case of nerves, then?" he asked her as Hermione blinked up at him, her eyes becoming wet.

"No," she said tremulously, "not nerves. Cramps."

Snape stared at her.

"Cramps?" he repeated.

"Menstrual cramps. I'm . . . I'm starting my period," she said, as Snape had the usual male reaction of subdued horror. He hid it well, however. He was familiar with the phenomenon, being that he sometimes had to supply his Slytherins with potions to ease their cramping when Aunt Flow came to visit. Unfortunately, he didn't have any of it with him, and they were barely on schedule as it was.

"Do you think you can make it through the meeting?" Snape asked her.

Hermione usually got pretty bad cramps before her period came on, but she didn't want him to think she couldn't handle her monthly, so she nodded. Snape gently took the satchel from her, opened it and produced a small bottle of pain potion. He opened it and handed to the witch.

"This isn't made for your particular ailment, but it may help," he said softly.

Hermione drank it down and handed it back to him, then excused herself and walked into the wooded area to attend to her needs, creating a pad and inserting it into her knickers. With a sigh, she returned to the wizard's side and took his arm without looking at him.

She was so disappointed. Why did this have to happen today of all days?

"I'm ready," she said sullenly.

Snape studied her for a moment, and then . . . they Disapparated.

* * *

They reappeared on a slope in a misty, mountainous area, the terrain looking rather forbidding with its low-lying rocks and gray, colorless atmosphere. Hermione could hear the sounds of Apparition all around them, and could make out robed, hooded figures moving through the mists, all heading northward in pairs, toward a rise.

Snape kept hold of her arm, the large bundle tucked securely under his other.

"Come along, and watch your step," he said, his voice rather hard as he drew up his own hood.

There was an errant wind that rose and fell in gusts, rippling Hermione's robes, the damp air rushing under them and chilling her bare skin. What was worse, she was hit by another painful, pulsing cramp.

"Shit," she swore, and Snape looked at her. He couldn't see much because her head was lowered and well within the hood now as she protected her face from the wind. The Potions master quickened the pace. He needed to get her out of the elements.

"We'll arrive shortly," he told her as they picked their way along the slope, coming to a rough path clear of stones. Before them walked other masters and their apprentices, bent against the wind, looking like wraiths in the swirling mists as they made their way toward the flickering lights of the mansion and what lay within.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they reached the mansion, standing at the end of a line of masters and apprentices, which slowly moved forward as they were identified and allowed to enter. Presently, Snape and Hermione stood within the great doorway. A cowled wizard with a clipboard and quill stood there ominously.

"Name," he rasped.

"Master Severus Snape and Apprentice," Snape replied.

"Lower your cowl and be counted," the wizard said.

Snape released Hermione's arm and lowered his hood with one hand, revealing himself. The wizard glanced at him, his face barely visibly in the depths of the cowl drawn around his head.

"You are acknowledged, Master Snape. Take your apprentice among your own," the wizard intoned.

Snape took Hermione's arm again, and entered the mansion, following his peers into a cavernous stone room with a high ceiling that disappeared into darkness. Torches were ensconced on the walls and there were several tables on the far wall, on of which held parchments listing the name of the masters and the order in which they would introduce their apprentices. The other tables were presently empty, but food and drink would be supplied after the presentations. There were no chairs but a kind of raised stage in the center of the room. On it rested a podium and a small table, set back a ways, leaving a large empty area in front, presumably where the apprentice would stand so he could clearly be seen.

Snape escorted Hermione to the table and picked up a parchment.

Thirty masters were listed as presenting new apprentices this year. Snape was the last on the list. He frowned slightly as he read this. He was purposely placed last and knew it. By the time he took the stage, the masters would be tired and irritable, ready for the mingling and unwilling to take out too much time to acknowledge his choice.

But once they saw who he had chosen, Snape was sure interest would be instantly rekindled. He smirked slightly as he stared down at the parchment.

"Ah, Master Snape," a voice purred.

Snape turned to meet the spitefully sparkling gray eyes of one Master Antoine Vargas. The Potions master eyed the cowled Hermione with more than a little interest. Beside him stood a tall, hooded apprentice who had at least two inches on the rotund wizard.

"Your choice is a bit . . . small, Severus," Vargas said by way of criticism. "As you can see, I like my apprentices tall and strapping. I'm not threatened by that. I imagine some of us like to feel physically superior as well as intellectually, and make our choices based on that. Less challenge that way, is there not, Severus?"

Snape's eyes narrowed as Hermione wondered what the hell Vargas was talking about. What difference did size make? What did Vargas mean, less of a challenge?

"To be honest, Master Vargas, my choice of apprentice was not based on physical appearance, but potential. Your choice may be a fine physical specimen, but can he think for himself? Does he have a penchant for brewing? When the doors are closed, Master Vargas, his talents should extend to potions rather than your plump buttocks."

Hermione almost gasped when she heard Snape address the wizard in that manner. Did . . . did Vargas have sex with his male apprentice? Dear gods? What kind of den of iniquity did she walk into?

"Of course he can brew! He has to have some skill, some talent in order to be apprenticed. He made passing marks of course and shows a great willingness to learn," Vargas said evenly. "And the delicate nature of our personal relationship is not one to be recklessly bantered about, Master Snape, particular in such a crude manner. It is a traditional association after all, one to be respected. That I chose an appealing youth should be no surprise. And to be honest, your pitiful choice of flesh is of no surprise to me. You have never truly been on of us, but an upstart and a troublemaker, always challenging your betters!"

Vargas was red and huffing, his apprentice shifting beside him, the hood pointed toward Hermione, face hidden deeply within. Hermione's heart was pounding. Surely Professor Snape wasn't going to take that insult.

"Not one master here is my better, Vargas. You should know that. If there was a better master, then I wouldn't be among you, would I? Not one of you could combine the ingredients I did during my test. In fact, not one of you was willing to try out of fear you would be blown to bits. A boy of the tender age of nineteen bested all of you with a single demonstration of his skill. What kind of apprentice do you think such a talented individual would take on? Certainly not just a boy toy with the capacity to 'learn.' My apprentice could brew circles around most of these meager selections even at entry level. In fact, it's possible my apprentice might give you a run for your Galleons, Vargas."

Snape was definitely selling dragon tickets here. Vargas, as unpleasant as he was, was a full-fledged Potions master and Hermione could no more outbrew him than a child could. But, these meetings were for boasting as well, and Snape had no problem getting into the spirit of it, since he couldn't stand his fellow masters to start with.

Hermione was aware of grumbling now. Apparently, a few masters were listening in and didn't like what they were hearing from the Potions master. Hermione wished he would let go of her arm so she could grab her wand for comfort. Then she was hit with another cramp and gritted her teeth against the pain.

Master Vargas' face contorted unpleasantly, and he was about to respond when he was interrupted.

"Attention! Attention! All gather around the stage. It is time for the presentations to begin," a balding Potions master with a long crooked nose announced from the podium.

Vargas' gray eyes shifted to the stage, then back to Snape. They narrowed.

"I will see you on the podium, Master Snape," Vargas hissed, "ready to laugh your choice off the stage."

He turned and walked through the crowd, his tall, robed apprentice in tow.

"He's horrible," Hermione hissed with some venom to Snape as they walked toward the stage. She was aware of eyes on them, the masters looking at them openly as their robed apprentices turned their hood openings in their direction.

"He's just like every other master here," Snape said in a low voice, "just keep your head."

"I wish everyone would stop looking at us," Hermione groused as another painful cramp hit her.

Snape glanced at her. She sounded . . . well angry.

They finally found a location to stand, Hermione setting the satchel on the floor beside her.

"Pick that up," Snape hissed at her.

"You pick it up. Isn't there any place to sit down here? My thighs are killing me," Hermione responded crabbily.

What in the world was wrong with her? This wasn't the time to start acting up. Rather than get into an argument with his apprentice, Snape retrieved the satchel himself. He didn't want it compromised. An asp or any manner of nasty, deadly object could be dropped inside it. But, he'd be giving Hermione a good talking to about following orders on their way back . . . if they made it back.

Hermione shifted next to him impatiently as the first Potions master took the stage, followed by his apprentice. The elderly wizard had violet eyes, gray, short cropped hair and a large golden hoop in one ear. He looked well over a hundred as he looked out at his fellow masters. The robed, hooded, apprentice stood before the podium, facing the crowd.

"I am Master Gunther. I present to you my newest apprentice, Horatio Blanks!"

The apprentice removed his hood and let his robes drop to the floor. He was wearing only briefs, socks and boots, his lean, tanned body glistening slightly as if oiled. He had blonde, curly hair and the bluest eyes Hermione had ever seen. The imprint of his rather ample goods was clearly visible against the tight-fitting briefs. Murmurs of appreciation rose from the master's at the apprentice's beauty.

"What the hell is this?" Hermione hissed to Snape. "It feels like a slave auction."

Horatio slowly spun as Gunther cited his abilities.

"He was top of his graduating class, and has already brewed several difficult brews from memory. He is obedient and courageous. His wand work is above average. His greatest contribution to date has been cutting my brewing time in half. I am sure within two years he will be able to take over my work, thus freeing me for further experimentation on my own projects. I believe him a worthy apprentice."

Snape rolled his eyes as everyone clapped and voiced appreciation for Gunther's choice. To Hermione, the apprentice's qualifications sounded rather mundane. Except for how cute he was, he didn't seem to be anything special.

"Fuck," Hermione hissed as another cramp hit her, making the master on her right turn to look at her in disapproval.

"What are you looking at?" she snarled from within the hood. Snape yanked her arm.

"What's wrong with you? You don't address masters in that manner! Now, hold your tongue," he warned her, apologizing to the indignant wizard, who sniffed at him.

"A fine apprentice. Did you choose him for his respectfulness?" the wizard sneered, turning back to the stage.

Snape reached into his pocket and subtly cast a slightly altered Silencing spell around them. They could hear what was being said around them, but no one could hear their conversation. It was quite handy. He had altered it himself years ago after creating the Mufflato spell.

"Hermione, what is wrong with you? You can't speak to my peers in such a disrespectful manner, and I'm sure you know that," he said to her angrily.

"I can't help it. I don't feel good. I'm achy, feel bloated, I'm cramping and I want to sit down someplace, Severus. The last thing I want is some old coot in a robe gawking at me," she said bad-temperedly. "And I don't need you correcting me at every turn!"

Snape blinked at her. She was about to be gawked at by a number of old coots, and most likely booed and yelled at before he straightened them out. He studied the slightly bent witch.

Shit, this had to do with her period.

And he couldn't give her anything for pain now. He could be accused of enhancing her in some manner if he were seen. Apprentices had to be in a normal state of being and wearing nothing other than what belonged to them beneath their robes. A state of undress was not required, but made the apprentice's "attributes" more appealing, especially if lacking in skill or great intellectual capacity.

Flesh sells.

Snape decided to keep the Silencing spell up for the duration, so no one would hear Hermione griping under her breath. A good thing too, because as her cramps became worse, so did her observations, accurate though they were. Few of these apprentices seemed to be anything more than potential playthings for the masters, who would be educated in the art of Potions. Not all masters were premiere, some were just entry level and remained that way all their lives, selling common brews and potions and never making any true contributions to the field.

Vargas mounted the stage importantly, clearing his throat several times as his apprentice took the stage.

"Ah, my fellow masters, I have found a diamond among the coals. A brilliant student, a fine specimen with a special ability," he stated. "His name is Conan Moores. Reveal yourself, Conan."

The robes dropped and the audience gasped appreciatively as Vargas' apprentice bared his goods. He was garbed only in a leopard skin loincloth, his olive toned body glistening in the torchlight, tight and chiseled, hairless and beautiful. His long dark hair fell wildly over his shoulders and he wore a proud, disdainful look as he glared down at the masters with sharp brown eyes.

Hermione thought he looked like Tarzan of the Apes, particularly since he had a dagger attached to the loincloth, and said so, making Snape chuckle despite himself.

"Show them your ability, Conan," Vargas ordered, and suddenly a snarling leopard appeared on the stage, pacing back and forth, lips pulled back from its fangs. The front row of masters drew back, almost causing those behind them to fall.

"Conan slaughtered a young dragon several weeks ago with only his wand and dagger, then harvested it himself. A brave and daring deed, don't you agree?"

Cries of agreement arose as the leopard turned back into the handsome youngster.

"He is loyal as well, and would give up his life for me if I asked it of him. What better qualifications are necessary in an apprentice?" he asked.

"Having half a brain," Hermione muttered.

Vargas looked around the room and his eyes fell on Severus.

"I doubt any other master has an apprentice to match this one. He will make a fine master one day," he concluded as Conan picked up his robes and put them on, aware of the hungry eyes on him and posing for a moment before fastening them.

"Oh Merlin's pubes," Hermione snorted.

They suffered through the rest of the presentations, most of the apprentice long on looks and short on substance as far as Hermione could see. It really was like a meat market, the masters clearly interested more in the carnal than the cerebral.

"I'm not going to have to bare myself like that, am I?" Hermione asked Snape, who shook his head.

"No. Your robes will be sufficient. More that sufficient, believe me," Snape replied. "Although you may have to reveal what I carry under my arm."

"What is it?" she asked the wizard.

Snape told her.

"Oh, I'll show it to them all right," she said, her voice hard.

Snape had a feeling Hermione was going to get a reception much like he did when he appeared among the masters many years ago. More than likely, she would respond much as he did as well and shake up these stuffed robes.

Finally, it was their turn. Snape removed the Silencing spell and mounted the stage, Hermione following.

"What's this, Snape? Did you only bring half an apprentice?" someone shouted from the crowd, which roared with laughter, delighted to make the dark wizard the brunt of their jokes. In reality, they were all jealous of him, and felt he believed himself better than they by not coming to their meetings and participating in their gatherings held several times a year. So this was an opportunity to show their displeasure and maybe bring him down a few pegs.

"My choice of apprentice has received the highest marks the illustrious school of Hogwarts has recorded in over fifty years," Snape announced to the crowd, "and maintained the highest Potions marks in my class consistently since the first year. Not only is my apprentice accomplished in Charms, but in every other field of study as well, with the exception of Divination, which is a wooly science in itself. Unlike most of you, I did not choose my apprentice on the basis of physical beauty or sexual pleasure . . ."

Here Snape was met with grumbles, because the masters were also masters of deluding themselves that they chose their apprentices to improve their art. Their being beautiful examples of the male body was just . . . gravy.

"I chose my apprentice based on ability, potential and promise. When this course of study is finished, I will have produced a truly worthy addition to our field, one who will not be relegated to a shop selling low-level lust potions to adolescent wizards for a pittance or beauty potions to aged witches far past their prime. My apprentice will break new ground and be a true light in the darkness of stagnation our art has become, thanks to you lot."

Cries of "How dare you?" and "Upstart" as well as a few obscenities rang angrily through the crowd of masters. Wand use was forbidden at these meetings, otherwise Snape would have been dueling an entire room of irate Potions masters.

From within her hood, Hermione frowned at the sea of wizards raging before her. Snape was right, they were all a bunch of posers. She had thought Potions a noble art, and it still was, but these sad caricatures of Potions masters before her set her teeth on edge. Coupled with her cramps, this didn't make her the least bit amicable.

Snape stared at Hermione's back. Her moment had arrived.

"Apprentice, reveal yourself!" he thundered, and Hermione dropped her robes.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out today. I was involved in another project. A paying project! Yay for me! I finished it, so I was able to focus on this story. It was related to writing, basically giving my written opinion and critique of a short 68-page work. It was very enjoyable to do, although I was a bit disappointed, because it wasn't finished. Still, it's nice to make a little money doing something I enjoy while helping someone out. :waves to K: Well, anyway, thanks for reading.


	45. The Revealing

**Chapter 45 The Revealing**

The entire room fell silent as Hermione's first set of robes fell to the floor, revealing her still hooded and dressed in her basilisk robes. The shining fabric shimmered in the torchlight, rare and beautiful.

Then, she lowered the hood.

Antoine Vargas stared at the young woman staring back at the crowd, every bit disdainful in her demeanor as his own choice of apprentice, even slightly condemning as her brown eyes swept over them.

An angry murmuring began as the Potions masters took in the fact that Severus Snape had once again flouted their conditions and brought a witch into their midst.

"Blasphemy!" Antoine screamed, and the cry was taken up by the rest of the masters, their apprentices staring at the young woman on the stage in amazement.

More angry words filled the air.

_"Snape, you've gone too far!"_

_"Cast him out!"_

_"He has brought a witch among us! Desecration!"_

"BE SILENT!" Snape's voice boomed, aided by a Sonorous charm.

The cries stopped but the muttering continued as Snape reached into his satchel and removed a book, holding it high above his head.

"This is the Book of Practices! You all know it! I've gone through it from cover to cover and there is no law against a male master taking on a female apprentice. It is after this book was written that you took it upon yourselves to separate the sexes, refusing to teach and associate with the mistresses of our art out of petty jealousy and a false sense of superiority."

"How dare you chastise our associations!" a voice screamed at him.

"How dare you pervert our traditions in order to indulge your unhealthy practices of preying on young men who wish to pursue the art? This so-called 'Meeting of the Masters' is little more than a showcase for opportunists . . . and for beefcake!"

Gasps arose and Hermione almost burst out laughing at the Potions master's choice of words. But she had to agree there was more meat swinging here than in a butcher shop window.

"You cannot reject my choice of apprentice because of her sex, or you will be going against the Book of Practices and our entire association will be little more than a sham," Snape finished.

The room fell silent for a moment, then Vargas yelled, "Her adornment! You have adorned her in basilisk robes! That is against tradition. An apprentice cannot come before us in anything not his own! This finery shows that you have ignored at least that part of the Book of Practices! No other master has dressed his apprentice in such a manner! Your apprentice is rejected based on her attire! You may train her, but she will not be accepted! Ever!"

Snape's lip curled.

"Do you really think I would be as foolish as all that, Vargas? Those robes belong to my apprentice. She wears the flesh of the creature she killed," he said proudly. "That she killed ALONE, I might add."

Hermione continued to glare down at the masters silently, daring them to challenge her qualifications. Her demeanor did nothing to make the Potions masters feel any kinder toward her.

"Pah! You want us to believe this mere slip of a witch killed a basilisk, alone?" Vargas hissed, then laughter rose from the crowd. "Tell us, did she run it through with a sword after a long and arduous battle? If so, I don't believe it. She is hardly big enough to pick up a sword, much less swing it."

"Not only did she kill a basilisk, she saved my life after I was bitten by the creature," Snape continued.

Even more cries of negation arose.

"Impossible! Nothing can cure the venom of a basilisk's bite except for . . . "

"Phoenix tears!" Hermione cried from the podium, addressing the crowd directly, which was a no-no. "Albus Dumbledore has a phoenix, in case you lot didn't know that!"

"She speaks!" Vargas raged.

"Yes, I do," Hermione responded, "and I more than speak, you pompous bastard!"

Snape covered his face with his hand as Hermione's cramps took over.

"How, how DARE you!" Vargas yelled back at her over the angry voices of the Potions master. Who the fuck did this witch think she was?

Snape quickly leafed through the Book of Practices as bedlam ensued, wizards shaking their fists at Hermione and Hermione snarling back at them disdainfully. Luckily, there was a whole chapter on presenting apprentices.

"Hold!" he cried over the voices, waving the book in the air.

Everyone quieted down.

"It doesn't forbid apprentices to speak in their own behalf if challenged. By stating my choice of apprentice performed an impossible act, you have challenged her, Vargas, and given her the right to speak her piece. So, be silent, all of you, if you would follow our code!" Snape demanded, then looked at his apprentice, his dark eyes glittering.

"You may defend yourself, apprentice," he told her softly.

Hermione looked around at the angry wizards. Normally, she wasn't a boaster, but this lot and their paltry choices needed to be taken down a peg, the chauvinists.

"I did kill the basilisk," Hermione said, drawing her wand. "Using a rooster, and this . . . NOCTURNIS!"

Hermione whirled her wand above her head and plunged the room into darkness. Snape immediately ran forward, pulling Hermione from her original position in case anyone tried to hex her in the dark. He heard a thud behind him and glowered.

The wizards were yelling now, milling about in the darkness as Hermione pointed her wand at the back of the room.  
"Solaris Orbis!" she cried.

A shining orb rose from the floor and loomed overhead, bathing the now silent masters in light.

"I created a mock sunrise to make a rooster crow. It killed the basilisk!" Hermione cried, letting the light die as the torches relit themselves. She ended the spell and looked down at the Potions masters, who stared up at her in silence. Vargas' expression was murderous and his apprentice's narrowed eyes rested on his master to be. He looked displeased.

Snape looked behind the stage for the source of the metallic thud he heard and saw on the floor, Vargas' apprentice's knife. It had been thrown at the area Hermione had occupied while the room was in darkness. By the way Vargas' apprentice was looking at his master, it was clear he wasn't the one who threw it.

Snape looked at Vargas hatefully, but said nothing.

Hermione returned to the center of the stage, and Snape returned to the podium.

"In addition, my apprentice helped to render the beast . . . "

"Wait, how do we know that this witch actually killed a basilisk? Yes, the method is ingenious, but robes can be purchased and tales manufactured. Without proof, this could all be theatrics and lies," Vargas cried.

"Yes! Show us proof or depart!"

The cries rose. Hermione looked at them with narrowed eyes, then walked back to the Potions master, leaned down and picked up the bundle. She staggered as she carried it to the table on the right side of the wizard.

"Weak as a kitten!" Vargas said disparagingly, trying to amplify whatever faults he could.

Hermione dropped the bundle on the table, then purposely stood in front of it, blocking everyone's view as she unwrapped it. Then, she took a deep breath and summoned her strength, lifting the bundle's contents over her head and spinning to face the crowd.

Everyone gasped as the shining, severed head of the basilisk stared down at them, jaws agape, fangs apparent, the yellow eyes dull with death. They still recoiled from its gaze, however.

"Here is my proof!" Hermione cried, straining to hold it up a few seconds longer, before letting it drop heavily back on the table. "I am more qualified than any of your choices and demand my rightful place among the apprentices!"

"Can any wizard here give grounds to deny her?" Snape demanded. "If so, speak now or be forever silent concerning Hermione Granger!"

There was some muttering, but no one spoke against the wizard's choice. It was clear to see she was more than qualified to be among them. She had their apprentices beaten by miles.

"It is settled then. Hermione Granger is the apprentice of Master Severus Snape from this moment on," Snape intoned, walking around the podium and beginning to wrap up the basilisk head again, as Hermione picked up her discarded robes and slung them over her arm. She was going to mingle in her basilisk robes.

The end of the showcase was announced and food and libations placed on the tables. Snape watched Hermione carefully as she moved among the crowd, eliciting more interest from the apprentices than the masters, who glowered at her hatefully.

Conan walked around the stage and angrily retrieved his knife. He had felt Vargas grab it from under his robes when the room went dark, and heard the clunk. It angered him that his master would try and kill a witch, particularly a witch as accomplished as Hermione.

He wasted no time approaching the witch.

"You caused quite a stir," the handsome wizard said to her.

Hermione frowned up at him, completely unaffected by his good looks. Seeing nothing but pretty boys onstage had pretty much made them all run together.

"The masters caused the stir," she said, holding her belly with crossed arms. "Now, go away!"

Conan lifted both heavy brows at her.

"This is supposed to be a mingling," he informed her.

"I mingled. Now, I'm telling you . . . go away!" she hissed.

Gods, her thighs ached.

Snape suddenly appeared, offering her a bottle of pain potion. Hermione almost took it . . . but didn't.

"What did we do the last night we were together before I went on Christmas vacation?" she asked him.

"Brewed," was the short, hoarse reply.

Hermione stared up at him.

"You're lucky we're not allowed to hex other people here, or I'd blow your ass across the room. Get away from me, whoever you are," she growled.

The imposter Snape melted back into the crowd, the other masters surreptiously observing the interaction. Well, she wouldn't be getting poisoned that way. Another master walked up to her, offering his hand in a friendly manner.

"You are quite accomplished, Apprentice Granger. Welcome to the field," he said.

"Thank you, but I'll pass on the handshake, if you don't mind," Hermione replied.

The master scowled blackly.

"Unfriendly wench, aren't you?" he snapped.

"When it comes to murderous bastards, I guess I am," she snapped back at him.

"Why you little . . ."

"Is there a problem, Master Hollis?"

Snape's silken voice rose from behind the master. It was quiet and controlled, but anger was apparent in Snape's dark eyes.

"Nothing a few etiquette lessons couldn't fix," he muttered, walking away quickly.

"Oh, just one blast," Hermione said, looking at the Potions master's receding back longingly.

"I know how you feel," Snape said with a little chuckle, "but we will be leaving soon and I'll be able to give you something for your condition."

Hermione couldn't wait to get out of there. After a few more failed attempts on her life, they left the mansion.

Snape was quite pleased with Hermione. They'd be talking about her for centuries to come. A chip off the old cauldron.

"Let me get you back to Hogwarts," he said, wrapping one arm around the witch protectively and Disapparating with her.

They reappeared in front of the Hogwarts gates. Hermione felt totally exhausted, and her knees buckled. Snape still had her and was alarmed. The combination of her period coming on, not eating and all the excitement had taken their toll on the witch.

Snape quickly let her into Hogwarts, then looked around carefully and took the satchel from her. He reduced it to pocket-size, and placed it in his pocket. He then Disillusioned the basilisk head and placed it on the ground near the warded gate. He then put a protective ward around it. He couldn't reduce the head without affecting its potency. He'd come back for it.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him.

Suddenly, Snape swept her up into his arms and started walking, carrying her to the castle.

"Getting you situated witch. You've had a long day," he said to her gently.

Hermione didn't argue, but rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

The last sound she heard before sleep fell was the sound of his beating heart.

* * *

A/N: You go, Hermione Granger! She showed them, didn't she? Pompous bastards. Ah, morning writing. I got up at 4:35 am to write this. It's now . . . 5:45 and the sandman's back. :yawnz: Maybe I can sleep now. Thanks for reading.


	46. Back at Hogwarts

**Chapter 46 Back at Hogwarts**

Hermione stretched, yawned and opened her eyes slowly. She felt rested and less achy as she rolled to her side, blinking. Then she sat straight up in the bed. Where was she?

She looked around as she pulled the scarlet and gold bedcovering from her body and slid to the edge of the queen-sized four-poster bed she found herself in. This wasn't the professor's quarters.

Then she realized that she was bathed and dressed in a long white nightgown. She stood up and lifted it, seeing she also wore clean knickers with a pad inserted neatly inside.

"Oh my gods," she breathed, blushing. Did Professor Snape do this?

She didn't know as she let the gown drop back. A pair of white slippers rested on the floor next to the bed and a white housecoat was draped over the chair. She slipped them on, then took in her surroundings. There was a Gryffindor standard hanging on the wall, a mirrored dresser, wardrobe, and nightstand. A plush rug lay on the cold stone floor and her wand lay on the nightstand.

She pulled open the dresser and wardrobe to find her things neatly folded and hung up. These must be her quarters. She didn't know she had her own quarters. She and the professor had never gone over the details, but it made sense. There had to be some privacy. But a little part of her was disappointed. She had hoped that her accommodations would include access to the professor's bedroom.

Still, that could be arranged.

Hermione noticed the bathroom and inspected it. A sunken tub, a separate shower and twin basins graced the tiled room. She opened the cabinet under the sink and saw a neatly stacked pile of sanitary napkins and several boxes of tampons.

Well, she wouldn't run out of those any time soon. There were also stacks of towel and wash cloths in a towel cabinet, fluffy, white and inviting. She used the loo, changed her pad, then ventured out of the bedroom and walked up and down a short hall, looking into the other rooms.

"A lab," she breathed as she turned right. It had some equipment, counters and a desk. A blackboard hung on the wall.

She never imagined she'd have her own lab. She walked back up the hall and found the study, the bookshelves already holding a few of her books. The shelves were sadly empty, especially compared to Snape's collection. But, she imagined she'd fill them in over the next four years. There was a fireplace, comfy armchair, a recliner and a large writing desk, complete with parchments, quills and ink neatly arranged.

She walked further down the hall and found a brightly painted kitchen with utensils, a stove, a cooler, ample cabinet space and a table that seated four. There was a little foyer that led in the direction of the dungeon corridor. Wow, a private entrance. Then she noticed an open doorway. Beyond it was flickering firelight. She walked to it and realized it opened on professor Snape's study.

She walked in and saw the wizard standing in front of his fireplace, a glass of amber liquid in his pale hand. He was motionless, his back to her, still dressed in the black robes he wore to the Meeting of the Master. The wizard was staring into the flames as if they held answers to questions not yet formed, but close beneath the surface.

Suddenly he spoke.

"You're awake," he said softly.

"Yes," Hermione replied, not moving yet. "What time is it now?"

"After seven in the evening. You were very tired," the wizard responded, still facing the flames.

Hermione approached him now, walking around an armchair and looking up at his profile, and the firelight that flickered over his face.

"I've been bathed and dressed," she said to him softly.

He nodded.

"Yes. I thought that would help you sleep more comfortably," he replied.

Flushing, Hermione asked, "Did . . . did you do this? Bathe me and dress me?"

Now Snape looked at her.

"No. I had several female house elves attend you," he told her, finishing his Firewhiskey and setting the empty glass down on the small table between the armchairs.

"Let me order you a meal. You must be famished. Sit down," he instructed her.

Hermione did as he asked and watched as he used the fireplace to place an order to the kitchen. He ordered tomato soup, a salad and a rare, hot roast beef sandwich for her, on sour dough bread, topped with lettuce, tomato and mustard. He also asked for pomegranate juice rather than pumpkin.

A few minutes later, two house elves appeared with her food. The wizard took the soup and salad, and Hermione took the sandwich and juice and they returned to her quarters, the wizard placing her meal on the kitchen table and pulling out the chair for her. Hermione placed the juice and sandwich on the table as he retrieved a spoon for her soup, then sat down across from her to watch her eat, a thoughtful look on his face as she started with the soup.

He let her eat for a few minutes, Hermione feeling a bit self-conscious under his quiet gaze. When she finished the soup, the Potions master spoke.

"Do you like your accommodations?" he asked the witch.

"Oh yes! They're wonderful. I didn't expect all this," she replied. "Actually, I didn't know what to expect. I thought I might have a small room off your study."

Snape smirked slightly.

"If you were a male apprentice, that is exactly what you would have had, and very sparsely furnished," he responded. "But I believed you needed accommodations that would allow you to have some independence and privacy. Besides, I don't think your parents would have appreciated the other arrangements. Particularly your father."

Hermione snorted.

"You've got that right. He would have had bugbears. So, they saw my quarters before I did?" she asked him.

Snape nodded.

"And they also saw the basilisk head," the wizard informed her.

Hermione went pale.

"You showed them the basilisk head? Why?" Hermione wanted to know, imagining what their response would have been to seeing the head of a deadly mythical creature.

"It was a very effective way of proving to them that you were capable of holding your own. If you could kill a basilisk, then you'd have no problem fending anything or anyone else off . . . in this case, that anyone being me," he said softly.

Hermione scowled.

"I'd never have to fend you off," she said, a bit of frustration in her voice at the truth of that statement. She wouldn't mind him crowding her a bit. Actually, he could crowd her all he wanted. She viciously stabbed her salad to release a little of that frustration, the cherry tomato she speared bleeding profusely. She looked at it, satisfied, before popping it into her mouth.

That little vicious stab hadn't gone unnoticed by the Potions master.

"Yes, but I know the possibility was running through your father's mind. I think the basilisk was quite reassuring, after they got over the shock," he told her.

Hermione shook her head, not sure she agreed with the professor's methods, but acknowledging they were effective if nothing else.

She took another bite of her sandwich, aware that there was a rather pregnant pause in the air as the wizard looked at her. He had something important to say. She could feel it.

Snape cleared his throat a bit. He seemed rather nervous, which wasn't usual at all.

"Hermione, now that you are officially my apprentice and situated in your rooms and ready to start your education proper, I feel there are some things I need to say to you, and some things I need to reveal concerning my conversation with your father," he said, folding his hands on the table.

"What things?" she asked him, taking a sip of the dark, rich pomegranate juice.

"I will start with your father first. The night we talked, he expressed some concerns, some very valid concerns about you and your attraction to me," Snape said. "He was relatively understanding about it, due to his own experiences with your mother. But there was an aspect that their relationship had, that any ensuing relationship between us, won't. And that is, experience. Your experience."

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Do you mean sexual experience? I'll get better at that," she said, making the wizard shift in his chair a bit uncomfortably. She just jumped right in, didn't she?

"Ah, no. That isn't the type of experience I am referring to. The fact is, Hermione, you have never dated. You have never been with anyone your own age in a romantic manner. You haven't been socially active, and that . . . that could be a problem later on," the wizard said delicately. "I am older, more established and reserved than the young men you would normally be involved with. There are things you will miss if you pursue a relationship with me, things that . . . that could be deemed important to a young woman's development. Such as going out to clubs, or exciting parties . . . maybe raves. Nights on the town, things of that nature. Also, you've never loved and lost, or known the heartache of young love. There are so many factors to consider here . . ."

Hermione put down her sandwich.

"Are you trying to back out on me?" she asked the wizard pointedly, frowning at him.

Snape's eyes widened.

"Why, no, Hermione . . . I'm just telling you . . ."

"Nothing!" she spat at him. "Severus, I've NEVER been a party animal or a clubber. Even when impromptu parties were held here at the school I didn't attend them unless they were mandatory. I'd rather study or read. It's always been that way for me. And I didn't date because I wasn't on the same page as the rest of the school. At least, where wizards were concerned. I like conversation. Intelligent, challenging conversation. No one could give me that, not my own age. They don't find knowledge fascinating like I do, and they didn't have anything to tell me I probably didn't already know."

Snape stared at her for a moment, then tried to interject his own thoughts, but Hermione was on the soapbox now.

"Professor, I'm not attracted to you just because of our past. I've had a crush on you for at least two years. You're a brilliant wizard and . . . and there are aspects of you I find incredibly sexy. I love that you are mature and experienced. That means I probably won't have to go through the idiotic scenarios younger, less stable wizards would put me through. I love that you are reserved and disciplined . . . because . . . because it makes me feel special that you feel as you do towards me, and makes me want to see that part of you fall for me, that guard come down. You have no idea how much I want that, want you . . ."

Snape sighed inwardly. She was doing it again, fanning that flame inside him with her words, her desire

"You are going to teach me so much, Severus," she said to him softly. "I'm going to be part of your world and you're going to be part of mine. We've waded through an ocean of time to come to this point, and I'm not about to let my dad's misgivings keep me from what I want the most in this world, you. I think you've been waiting for me . . . ever since I walked through the doors of Hogwarts and you realized I truly did exist. No, I know you've been waiting for me, otherwise when I arrived in Harry's room that day, you wouldn't have been there. You marked the day in your mind and in your heart so you could protect me if I needed it. And I did. You nearly died for me, Professor, fighting a basilisk with only a sword and being bitten in the process. Most wizards would have simply tried firing spells, not jump in the way you did. And you think I'm going to give you up just because I want to go to a bloody party?"

Hermione suddenly rose from the table and walked around it, stopping next to the professor who looked up at her, his heart full from her passionate words.

"Not in this timeline, or any other," she said softly, leaning down and kissing him squarely on the lips, savoring their softness as he helplessly let her snog him, her kiss sweeter than the sweetest honey.

Hermione drew back, her eyes moist and hot as she looked at the Potions master's subtly contorted face as he attempted to hide his desire.

"Damn," she said wistfully, "I wish Aunt Flow found someone else to visit today."

Although he didn't say it out loud, Snape dearly wished the same thing as Hermione pushed the table back, settled in his lap and kissed him again.

* * *

A/N: Had a day off from writing yesterday, so got up early and wrote this out. Thanks for reading.


	47. More Clarification

**Chapter 47 More Clarification**

Snape sat in the chair, receiving Hermione's kisses, her arms wrapped around his neck as their lips connected. The Potions master held his hands limply at his sides as her soft, sweet mouth pressed against his over and over. He returned her kisses carefully and chastely, not allowing her tender ministrations to take him over. It would be nothing but torment to lose himself in her and be unable to consummate his desire.

There were potions that were known to temporarily stop a menstrual cycle, but there could be complications with interfering with the process, a build-up of fluids and lining, very severe cramping, possibly infection. The dark wizard wasn't willing to take that chance with the witch, and hoped she didn't suggest he do such a thing. He'd have to deny her.

Hermione stopped kissing him, her brown eyes locking with his.

"Why aren't you holding me?" she asked him. "Caressing me? Don't you feel anything?"

The truth was, after all of his control, the reality that he could at last touch Hermione was a bit . . . daunting. It wasn't that he didn't want to do it, but he felt a bit of residual hesitance.

"Of course I feel something," he told her softly, his dark eyes gazing at her as he felt her closeness and weight on his thighs. He was glad his cock was in a rather upright position so she wasn't in contact with it. He was semi-rigid already. Any connection would put him at full attention.

"Well, show me you do," Hermione murmured to him, "touch me, Severus."

She kissed him again, and the wizard allowed one hand to rest against her upper back. She was in the house robe, but he could still feel her heat through the fabric and slowly drew his hand down to the small of her back, feeling her slight musculature. She seemed so delicate, although he knew she wasn't. He remembered how rough he was with her that night so long ago and how strong she was.

How good.

He felt a tightening in his loins and he pressed her against his body tighter, his other hand rising and his arm slipping around her as he took over the kissing, raising the bar as he tapped at her lips helplessly with his tongue, wanting to explore the soft warmth of her mouth. Hermione remembered this kind of kiss. She had only received one other like it, from him so long ago, although Victor Krum did his best to give her a refresher at the Tri-wizard ball.

Hermione opened her mouth, desire and happiness washing over her as their kisses became more intimate, the professor pulling her as close as he could, one hand now resting against the back of her head, caressing and entangling in her hair as his passion for her revealed itself. He tasted of Firewhiskey and smelled of spices, everything around them seeming to blur, and Hermione beginning to feel intoxicated by the taste and feel of him.

Snape kissed her like a starving man, exploring every sweet part of her mouth, his tongue caressing and curling around her tongue, longing thrumming through every part of his body. At last the barriers of time had fallen. At last, the revelation given all those years ago had finally come to pass. At last, the serpent and his lioness could be as one.

As soon as Aunt Flow moved on, that is.

Hermione's senses were whirling, and her small hands moved over the wizard's shoulders and back, feeling his lean, muscular frame beneath the fabric of his robes, the only thing that separated her fingers from his skin. How she wanted to touch his skin, to feel it warm and alive against her own flesh. This feeling was maddening, beautiful, overwhelming.

"I love you," she gasped at the wizard, who suddenly stopped kissing her, releasing his hold and drawing her back slightly, his eyes hungry and liquid as his chest rose and fell with emotion and need.

"Desire isn't love, Hermione," he said to her gently. "It might feel as if it is, but love, true love is something more. As time passes . . ."

"Did you and Neville read the same book or something?" Hermione hissed at him. "Don't you think I know what I feel? I know this is more than desire or infatuation. I would die for you!"

"And I for you, Hermione, more than once if it were possible. But, if you do indeed love me, you love the man who has been rather kind and doting over the past several years. I don't believe you've ever felt as if I've wronged or abused you," he told her.

Hermione shook her head.

"You've always looked out for me," she said softly, leaning in to kiss him again, but Snape drew back, a bit of sadness in his eyes.

"It is easy to have feelings for someone who is good to you, Hermione. For someone you feel treats you with respect, who takes your feelings into consideration. But what if that someone became demanding, coarse, and treated you like a servant? What if he browbeat you, constantly criticized you? Do you think then you could love that person?"

Hermione frowned at him. She knew this was some kind of trick question.

"What are you talking about?" she asked him, refusing to give him an answer to such a loaded question.

"Hermione, you are my apprentice now, and to be honest, I must treat you as such so you develop the strength, will and even the cold disregard necessary to be a Potions mistress of worth. Kindness has no place in your development, and it is not only your skill in potions that must be developed, but your character has to be tried by fire so you are secure and impenetrable as to who you are. You will need that strength to be truly effective at your art. Emotion cannot ever take over a Potions master when he focuses on his art. The only way to accomplish this . . . is by being broken down in spirit and rebuilt in strength."

Hermione stared at him.

"Severus, again I ask you what are you talking about?"

Snape sighed.

"This was what I wanted to speak to you about before you climbed into my lap and made me lose my train of thought, Hermione. As your Potions master . . . I am required to be . . . a total bastard. Not because I wish to make you miserable, but make you strong and not full of yourself. False pride can cost a life just as well as an explosion in this field. There are going to be times . . . that you feel you hate me. If there aren't, then I won't be doing right by you and your education."

"Hate you? I'd never hate you, Severus," she said to him. "I'll understand why you're doing what you're doing."

Snape smirked, but it wasn't a happy smirk.

"You might understand it, but it will affect how you feel about me just the same. Do you really think you'll want to be in my arms after I've given you some godsforsaken chore to do? Or after I've browbeaten you for a mistake anyone could make? Because, that's what it is to be a Potions master training an apprentice. To be challenging, demanding, almost heartless in the manner you teach. By the time I finish with you, Hermione, you will be able to practice your art and maintain your control no matter how difficult the situation you find yourself in. A horde of Manticore could be charging down on you, and you wouldn't miss a step in brewing. You will be unshakable if I do my job correctly. And I have to do my best to make you so."

Hermione didn't say anything, so the professor kept going.

"Hermione, I have looked out for you in my way for many years, and it was my intentions to help you become all you could be, even if you didn't accept me. Now that you have accepted me, I am honor-bound to continue to follow that path with even more alacrity, my main focus being that you will indeed be as exemplary as I believe you can be. Even if you turn away from me, I will still teach you and guide you and show you all I can. I am prepared for the worst, however, in order to insure that you receive the best. For the first time in your life, you will be experiencing what I am like with most of my pupils. You will not receive any preferential treatment. At least, not when we are in master/apprentice mode. And as you know, I can be very harsh. But it is all for the greater good."

Hermione knew those words from the other timeline. The term "It is all for the Greater Good," was mostly used to describe a necessary and often painful sacrifice in order to secure a positive outcome later on.

"When will you start my training?" she asked him.

"If I were a smart man, I would wait until your 'time' passed, and we became intimate at least once before I began your apprenticeship proper. I consider myself a fairly intelligent individual, however, it would not be fair to you if I waited just because I want you to feel favorably toward me. It would be manipulation of the worst sort. This way, you can still decide whether or not you will indeed become . . . my witch. If you decide in the negative, I will accept your choice and pursue nothing further between us."

Hermione stared at him.

"I think we should wait to start my apprenticeship, Severus," she said softly. "I don't want to be angry with you . . ."

"Because you know it will affect your feelings for me. The love you feel will fade away quickly, as will your desire."

Some of the light went out of Snape's eyes as he said this. He knew he was risking everything he had hoped for. But, he was being truthful and honorable. Everything inside him screamed not to be, but he couldn't let desire overrule what was right to do.

"No. It's just that . . . this is the realization of a fantasy for me . . . for us. I know you have to feel close to the way I do. I don't want reality rushing in so fast," she said, stroking his pale cheek with her hand. "Can't you just wait a week? Please?"

Snape shook his head slowly, not wanting to tell her no.

"Then, then can you give me a potion that will temporarily stop my period so we can be intimate tonight?" she asked him, her eyes glistening.

Here it was.

"Those potions are risky, Hermione. They can cause complications," he replied, his eyes full of concern.

"I don't care about complications. I don't want anything ruining this for us!" she said desperately. "I want to feel good about you, about what we do. I don't want to resent you."

"Resentment is par for the course when it comes to apprenticeship . . . a true apprenticeship. If I treated you any differently, you might as well be one of those pampered boy-toys displayed at the Meeting of the Masters today," he responded, his heart heavy. "I intend to be a teacher to you, Hermione Granger."

Where there was passion before, now was only anger and resentment. Hermione got off the wizard's lap.

"You just don't want to be with me, do you?" she asked him accusingly. "You're coming up with all kinds of excuses to keep us apart and unhappy. This isn't remotely fair! I've waited so long for you, for the moment to be right . . . and now that's it's almost here, you throw this at me? That you're going to treat me terribly starting tomorrow? Severus, it's not fair. You won't make any concessions for me. I love you . . . but you . . . you don't love me!"

Hermione burst into tears and ran into her bedroom as Snape looked after her, misery in his eyes.

"But I do love you, Hermione Granger," he said softly, "I've loved you from the moment I discovered you were real."

The wizard sat there for a few minutes, listening to the witch he loved sobbing her heart out until he could no longer stand it, and left her premises.

* * *

Snape stripped down, took a shower and retired to his bed. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about what Hermione had said about concessions. He wasn't a man for concessions. He had never been, but then again, he had never been in this situation before. He really did have Hermione's best interests at heart.

But now, she was miserable and believed he didn't love her. He hadn't gotten around to telling her he did, so her feelings made the situation so much worse. When she told him she loved him, he immediately launched into a little lecture about desire not being love, and the problems that were going to come up . . .

He should have just told her he felt the same way.

Snape realized that he was a true pessimist. Always thinking of the worst case scenarios. But that was the way he was. Thinking that way allowed him to come up with contingency plans to avoid those scenarios. But those scenarios only involved one person.

Him.

Now, there was Hermione to consider. He couldn't continue to operate as if it were just he alone. Her thoughts and feelings had to be taken into consideration as well, and he had to change some aspects about himself in order to accommodate her, if he truly wanted her.

And he did, more than he had ever wanted anything.

Maybe, maybe a few concessions were in order . . . at least right now. He wanted to do the proper thing, but Hermione didn't want him to in this case. She wanted to be happily in love when they came together, not cursing him for making her collect niffler shit or something equally vile. And she would be doing quite a few vile chores, not to mention be treated like his personal servant, fetching his paper every morning, brewing him tea, ordering his breakfast, lunch and dinner when he ate in, darning his socks, (magically) and things of that nature. It was standard apprentice fare.

Snape looked thoughtful as he turned on his side.

Maybe it would be best to wait to start Hermione's training. In the meantime she could work on the basilisk head, and he would treat her as he did while she was in detention. He was tough but she still kept her feelings for him.

Yes. Yes, that's what he would do. He would wait as she asked him to do.

Hopefully, she'd be happy about it.

If not . . . the fantasy would be over before it ever truly began.

* * *

A/N: Ooh. Difficult chapter to write, but had to go there. At least he made the concession. He really is smart. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	48. Easing Toward Paradise

**Chapter 48 Easing Toward Paradise**

The next morning, a sullen Hermione had a solitary breakfast in her kitchen. She didn't cook but had a house elf deliver her a light meal. Then she showered and dressed, pulling her hair back in a tight ponytail and donning a pair of plain black robes, socks and trainers. As was required, she wore nothing but her underwear underneath, a pad securely placed in her knickers. On the second day her flow was always heavy although she was less crampy. The potion the professor provided took care of those nicely. But she was still in a mood as she marched into his study.

"Pro . . . master?" she called rather impudently, "I am prepared to be abused!"

This wasn't the most mature attitude to have, but Hermione couldn't help it.

When he didn't answer, she called again.

"Master, I'm here, ready to start my apprenticeship. I thought you'd like to start out with a bit of browbeating to warm up?"

There was still no answer and Hermione realized she was wasting her sarcasm, as the wizard wasn't here. She walked back into her quarters and exited through her private entrance and walked down to the Potions classroom. It was unlocked.

She entered and walked down to the Potions master's lab. Sure enough, he was in there, setting up bowls and utensils. The basilisk head lay on the counter, covered by a light sheet. Hermione's heart leapt in her chest in reaction at the sight of him carefully laying out an assortment of knives with different blades, his hair swinging slightly as he almost obsessively placed them in proper order from large to small, carefully making adjustments in the layout so they were equally spaced. Hermione steeled herself.

"I'm here, master," Hermione said, "and ready for the ensuing cruelty."

Snape looked up at her in surprise.

"Good morning, apprentice," he said to her softly, straightening.

Hermione snorted.

"Good morning? Isn't that a bit courteous for someone who is supposed to be a total bastard? I was certain a snarl of greeting was in order," she told him, frowning. "Or at least a 'get to work, you insignificant peon.'"

Snape worked hard not to show he wanted to chuckle. Hermione was so pissed off at him and her age was definitely showing. She was just too honest to use subtlety to show her anger, such as giving him the silent treatment or pretending to be the attentive apprentice with plenty of overt false groveling ala Igor. It appeared blatant sarcasm and goading was the order of the day.

Actually, the wizard was delighted that she was courageous enough to address him in such a manner. Most wouldn't. They'd be terrified of his wrath.

He folded his arms and arched an eyebrow at her, his eyes resting on her mouth for a moment, Hermione flushing as she remembered their passionate kisses the night before . . . before he ruined the mood. She scowled back at him, and drew in a breath, ready to launch another stream of sarcastic commentary.

He held up his hand.

"Before you waste any more one-liners, I'd like to inform you that I've taken your advice and decided to wait until your time has passed and we have . . . have consummated our feelings for each other in a physical manner before formally starting your apprenticeship," he said delicately.

"You're going to wait until after you shag me?" Hermione asked him with a smile, effectively shattering any delicacy he attempted to display.

He shook his head slightly.

"Yes," he replied, "however, I would like to request that you find a word other than 'shag' to describe our relations. It makes me feel rather uncomfortable, alluding to your youthfulness rather than your maturity. I'm not a sixth year, Hermione. I don't 'shag.'"

Hermione gave him a devilish little smile, happy again, although still feeling a bit vindictive.

"Well, I suppose I can rephrase the question. You're going to wait until after you: poke me, bang me, boff me, bone me, bonk me, diddle me, dip your wick, do me, give me one, knob me, get your oats, pound me, or ride me? Any of those are fine substitutes for 'shag.'"

Snape stared at her.

"You are a very naughty little witch, Hermione Granger," he breathed, trying not to react to the string of erotic little euphemisms she'd given him. He was a man after all, and dirty references had the usual effect on him, particularly coming from Hermione's mouth.

"Too naughty for your own good. How about a term more novel? Such as 'make love?' We will wait to start your formal apprenticeship until I make love to you."

Snape's dark eyes now had a bit of heat in them. He couldn't help the way he looked at her after that delicious little stream of descriptive terms. He was aroused by them.

Hermione's brown eyes also heated up at his response. It was so sweet, so moving. It was clear that the wizard felt something wonderful for her . . . something beyond the lusty little scenarios she had tossed at him.

"Make love to me?" she repeated softly.

"Most definitely," the wizard said, his silken voice wrapping around her like a verbal caress. "Love will be present from beginning to end and beyond end, Hermione. It has always been present."

"Oh, Severus. You say the most beautiful things," she gushed, preparing to launch herself at him and snog him senseless, previous wrongs all but forgotten.

He held up his hands to fend her off. Now was not the time for snogging, as welcomed as it would be. He had to maintain some aspect of being the grown-up here. Snogging like a randy teenager in his lab would definitely mar that image.

"Now, none of that witch. We are in work mode, if not apprentice mode and you have much to do," he told her, removing the sheet from the basilisk head. "I've saved the best part of the beast for you to dissect. You must remove the brain, the eyes . . . complete with eyestalks attached, the nasal passages, anvil and hammer, venom sacks, and teeth to start with . . ."

He couldn't have cooled Hermione down better if he had saturated her with ice water. He stood up, picked up a saw and handed it to her, stepping back a bit as she stared at the tool in her hand.

"You'd better get some gloves," the wizard said softly, smirking a bit as she mechanically did as he asked.

Not only was Severus Snape good at creating incentive, he was quite talented at suppressing ardor as well. Hermione tentatively approached the basilisk head, eyeing it and hefting the saw uncertainly.

"Start sawing above the eyes, careful not to embed the teeth of the saw into the flesh beneath once you breech the bone," he instructed, pulling up a stool a little distance away and sitting down.

Hermione drew in a breath, gripped the muzzle of the creature and went to work.

* * *

By the time Hermione finished dissecting the basilisk head, with an hour off for lunch, her apprentice robes were full of holes from the fluid and Snape had to attend her skin with a very powerful healing potion on several occasions until she learned to be more careful with her cutting and gouging. Her basilisk robes would have protected her, but, although Snape had not yet started her apprenticeship training, he was harder on her than he usually would be. The best way to learn to handle caustic items was through being exposed to them. This lesson would serve Hermione well concerning other ingredients.

Now the remains of the head lay wide, gross and gutted on the table, split and turned nearly inside out, the insides reddish green and raw looking, the eye sockets stark and empty. In addition to what Snape had already requested, Hermione had to harvest and split the tongue and cut out the small ovals of meaty jowls, which were considered a very expensive delicacy in some lands, similar in danger to consuming Fugu or blowfish because the meat was so close to the venom glands.

Hermione had been forced to change her gloves several times during the process, since the gore was horrible and the knives and pliers kept slipping. She was achy and tired as well. Pulling out the fangs had been quite the chore and the Potions master didn't help once. Each tooth had to be pulled out in entirety, without being cracked or damaged, requiring a cloth to be applied to the tooth itself, then gripped by either pliers or vise grips, and twisted carefully while pulling downward. Hermione was perspiring by the time she got the first tooth out, and there were quite a few to remove, the hollow fangs being the most difficult.

"Put some elbow grease into it," Snape said by way of encouragement from the stool.

Hermione thought she might like to apply some elbows, but not to the teeth as she twisted and tugged away.

When the ingredients were carefully stored and put away, and the workspace cleaned, a very tired Hermione turned to look at Snape.

"Today I experienced the hardest potions work I've ever done," Hermione said to him, plopping down on another stool.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"How does it feel?" he asked her.

Hermione thought about it.

"Satisfying," she responded.

He nodded.

"Remember that feeling, apprentice. You seldom get to experience it in the beginning," he told her. "The most apprentices feel is overworked. Come, I'll order dinner for us."

"Dinner sounds good, but I'd like a shower first. I perspired buckets," Hermione told him as they exited the lab.

"Very well," Snape replied, following her to the Potions office and watching her pull the torch to enter his study as if she'd always stayed there. He smirked at her familiarity. As far as the witch was concerned, this was Hermione's house now.

It was, and would be for the next four years.

* * *

Hermione showered, washed her hair and felt human again as she pulled on a pair of comfortable sweats and a tea shirt. It had been quite a day and she really was satisfied with her work. But what was more important, Severus had taken her wishes into consideration and changed that stubborn mind of his. It was a victory of sorts. He really did care how she felt.

And what he said. He wanted to "make love" to her. Oh gods, that was so romantic, and the perfect response to her sarcasm and teasing. Snape was right, she had purposely been naughty with him. There was something delicious about talking to the Potions master that way, knowing that he wanted her and dangling his desire for her before him like bait.

Hermione Granger was a natural tease.

The moment she left her bedroom she smelled a delicious, savory scent in the air and nearly floated into the kitchen by her nose. Snape smirked, knowing he was nigh invisible as the witch settled in at the table, her brown eyes scanning the small simple spread.

Snape had decided on having something that was normally fall or winter fare, but he had a taste for it. On the table were two bowls of curried pumpkin soup, a spinach salad with mango chutney dressing and a crock pot of beef curry ready for self-service. It could pass for a light summer meal.

"Curry!" Hermione exclaimed. She enjoyed curry on occasion and hadn't had any in ages.

"I hope you don't mind," Snape said to her. "I had a taste for curry."

"Not at all," she gushed. "I love curry."

Snape gave her a half-smile. They appreciated similar foods. That was a plus.

Also on the table were a pitcher of ice water, a pitcher of milk and a small pitcher of pumpkin juice. Hermione noticed Snape had a bottle of Cobra beer next to his plate. Some people drank wine with it, but the wizard preferred the rich lager to wine when enjoying curry.

Hermione pulled the pumpkin soup closer, tasting it. The blend of onion, pumpkin, spices and coconut literally danced on her tongue and she sighed with pleasure.

"Oh, this is good," she breathed, ladling spoonful after spoonful to her mouth.

Snape had to agree. The spinach salad with chutney was delicious as well, and the curry . . . superb. Hermione poured herself a large glass of milk before diving into the curry, knowing she'd need something to combat the heat. But it was a wonderful meal all in all, and both wizard and witch were quite satisfied.

"Oh, that was delicious, Severus," Hermione said when they finished. She wore the look of the sated.

"Would you like dessert?" he asked her, pleased she had enjoyed his meal choice.

"No, no dessert," she told him.

The couple sat in silence for a few moments, not sure what to do now. Hermione knew what she wanted to do. Snog. Or kiss rather. No doubt the wizard found the term "snogging" immature as well.

"Could we sit in front of the fire in your quarters for a bit?" she ventured.

"Certainly. Do you like poetry?" he asked her.

"Sometimes," the witch replied, "but a lot of the time it comes across as rather fluffy and self-absorbed, as if the poet was more focused on writing pretty words rather than getting a meaning across. And I hate abstract poetry."

"I enjoy concrete works myself. Let us go to my study. I'll read you a few sonnets if you aren't opposed to it," he said to her softly.

Hermione thought Snape could probably read the ingredients off the back of a soup can and make it sound like poetry with that incredible voice of his. The wizard rose and walked around the table, solicitously pulling her chair out for her. Hermione suddenly blushed rather shyly as he gestured for her to into his quarters.

She did, and he followed, walking to the far wall and picking over several books before he withdrew one, then joined her by the fire.

Hermione listened mesmerized as the wizard read her romantic sonnet after sonnet, but her favorite by far was one by Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII. Snape read it with such passion and reverence, it was all she could do not to melt into a sticky puddle in his armchair. She stared at him, spellbound as his rich tones rose and fell in the quiet study, firelight flicking over him, making him seem almost unearthly as he read:

_I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz  
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:  
I love you as certain dark things are loved,  
secretly, between the shadow and the soul. _

_I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries  
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,  
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body  
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth. _

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  
I love you simply, without problems or pride:  
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving _

_but this, in which there is no I or you,  
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,  
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close._

Snape closed the book and looked over at Hermione, who was staring back at him.

"Quite a lovely sonnet," he said softly.

Hermione agreed as she rose, walked over to him and removed the book from his hand, placing it on the small table between the chairs and settling in his lap, placing her arms around his neck and looking into his dark eyes.

"That's not all that's lovely," she breathed, kissing him passionately.

For the second night in a row, they consummated their passion the only way they could, with passionate embraces and kisses, mouths locked to longing mouths, delving, exploring and wishing to go deeper, wishing to be immersed in each other, desire, a bittersweet torment snaking through their bodies and coiling in the pits of their stomachs, hungering, needing . . . wanting.

No length of passing time is more maddening than a short period of time that seems to go on forever. But, time did pass, seeming to drag its heels along the way and at last Hermione's guest moved to more fertile grounds, freeing her for the loving that was to come.

The couple worked in mostly silence in the lab on that day, their interactions a bit awkward and strangely formal. There was a sense of surrealness that permeated the air. Tonight would be the night they came together, and the normally unshakable Severus Snape was feeling more than his share of performance anxiety. He didn't show it, but . . . Merlin . . . it was there.

Hermione, for all her longing, was very nervous as well, cutting her eyes toward the silent wizard every time she thought he wouldn't see her, not knowing he didn't have to see her, he could sense her, feel her deep inside himself every time she clandestinely looked his way.

He didn't need to look at her. She'd been locked in his mind's eye for decades.

Tonight, he'd release that image and for the second time of many times to come, know her reality.

* * *

A/N: Ah, now that's the ticket. FINALLY. Lol. Well, I've finally done it. Had Snape reading poetry to Hermione. lolol. It had to happen sooner or later. Fluff requires it. Anyway, I love that sonnet by Pablo Neruda, although I was tempted to go with "How Do I Love Thee" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, which is also very beautiful. But I went with Pablo's piece. I hope you found it as lovely as I do. Imagine Snape reading that. :melt: Anyway, thanks for reading.


	49. Pampering

**Chapter 49 Pampering**

The couple finished their work and cleaned up the lab slowly, Hermione adjusting and readjusting the beakers, utensils and smaller cauldrons almost obsessively, Snape watching her for a few minutes.

"Hermione, I believe we're done here," he said to her softly.

Hermione turned to him, her brown eyes a bit apprehensive. The wizard cocked his head at her.

"You look . . . frightened," he said, not making any move toward the witch.

"I'm a bit nervous about tonight, about us," Hermione admitted.

Snape nodded.

"Sometimes wanting is easier to deal with than actually having," he told her gently, "but there's nothing to be nervous about, Hermione. Now, let us go and prepare for supper."

Snape walked to the door, hoping he sounded reassuring. He was feeling a touch of nervousness as well, but didn't physically show it. He opened the door and let Hermione out, actually feeling her warmth as she passed in close proximity. He was so attuned to the witch, it was as if he were on point.

She waited for him as he closed the door, then they walked side by side to his office.

"Ah, I thought we'd take an hour or two to ourselves before supper, to ah, freshen up and relax. Then, I will retrieve you for our meal," he said to the witch, who opened the wall to his quarters and walked through without responding. He followed her.

"How . . . how should I dress for supper?" she asked him, turning to face him as he entered the study..

Snape blinked at her. He didn't want to tell her what to wear, so instead thought it best to tell her what he intended to wear, hoping she would take a cue from that.

"I will be wearing black silk pajamas," the Potions master replied.

Hermione stared up at him.

"Pajamas?" she repeated.

"Yes, pajamas. Clothing ideally suited for . . . bed," he answered her, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione seemed to literally freeze up.

Snape sighed softly and stepped into the witch, gently wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him gently. Hermione's head rested against his chest and she could hear the wizard's strong heartbeat. He caressed her hair softly.

"You'll never have anything to fear from me, Hermione Granger," he crooned, holding her securely. "The sea of time has finally parted and brought us together. You will not drown. I will keep you afloat, safe in my arms, warm in my love."

Hermione sighed against him. Gods, that would sound so corny coming from anyone other than the Potions master. He meant what he said. She looked up at him.

"If you kissed me, it would make it better," she said softly.

Snape studied her face for a moment, then bent and kissed her gently, moving his lips against hers sensually, but not entering her mouth. It wasn't time to show hunger, only tenderness. He felt Hermione relax against him, her body going soft and pliant as his kiss took her over. It wasn't long before her own ardor began to make itself known and unlike Snape, she was more than ready to show her hunger. Her tongue tapped against his lips insistently.

Snape pulled away. Hermione's arms were wrapped around his neck as tightly as tentacles.

"It appears your fear is past," the wizard said, trying to pry her loose. Hermione's eyes were closed and her mouth still pursed.

"Let's skip supper," she breathed, opening her eyes as he managed to partially free himself from her serpent-like grasp.

Snape was tempted, but they needed strength and he wanted to bathe.

"It will be a light supper, Hermione. We need the carbs, believe me," he told her. "Now, be a good witch and go get ready. I will send a house elf to attend you if you like."

Hermione let him go reluctantly

"All right," she said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's six o'clock now. So, I can expect you at eight?"

"Yes," the wizard said, lifting her hand and kissing it gently. "Eight o'clock. Until then, Hermione Granger."

Snape watched as she walked through the open wall into her quarters, then he lowered the wall behind her and warded it, as well as the entrance to his study. She wouldn't be able to get in unless she broke the wards, and they were powerful ones. Snape knew how he wanted tonight to go, but if Hermione entered his quarters before the appointed time, his plans would fly right out the turret window. He wasn't strong enough to resist her now. He was already seduced.

The wizard walked to the fireplace, threw a bit of Floo powder into it, and sent two female house elves to Hermione's quarters to help her. House elves were wonderfully connected to those they served. They'd know exactly what Hermione would need for tonight and would help provide it. He then ordered supper, and requested two house elves to come and prepare his quarters in a manner suitable for receiving a female guest.

Snape walked into his bedroom, then the bathroom, looking from the shower to the sunken tub and back to the shower again. He stood there, undecided for a moment, then leaned down and closed up the drain to the bathtub. He turned on the spigot. It had been quite some time since he'd used the tub, but he thought it would be relaxing to soak and dream of what waited for him on the other side of the door.

He undressed, then opened his medicinal store and added a few drops of Replenishing potion to the bathwater. He'd decided not to add any scent. It often had an unpleasant taste to accompany it. Now that he had a witch of his own, he'd probably work on brewing something that both smelled and tasted good to wear. He'd have to find out what scent Hermione liked. He didn't wear cologne often, but he would wear it for her outside of the lab if she wished.

The wizard eased his long, lean frame into the bath, his lips pursed and body bouncing a bit as the very warm water touched his buttocks and dangly bits.

"Ah . . . ooh . . . aah," he breathed as he settled in, leaning back and soaking in the water luxuriously, feeling whatever tension he had left flow out of his body like magic. He soaked for several minutes before ducking fully under the water. He rose, water streaming down his face and picked up the bottle of shampoo resting on the side of the tub, intending to be kissably clean from head to toes.

* * *

Hermione quickly walked through her quarters to her bedroom. Two hours sounded like two days to the witch as she quickly removed her clothing. It would only take a few minutes to shower. She'd probably spend the rest of the time pacing back and forth through the rooms and making herself crazy. Maybe . . . maybe she could sneak in on him and make him skip supper after all.

She smiled naughtily as she stripped naked, then looked at herself in the mirror, her brown eyes resting on her brown, curly pubic hair. Maybe she should shave it.

No. Severus seemed to have a bit of a thing about how young she was. Nothing he couldn't handle, but her having a hairless snatch wouldn't help his perceptions a bit. She'd just edge it up. Then, she realized she heard water running.

Quickly, Hermione grabbed her housecoat and slipped it over her nude body, then padded into the bathroom. Inside were two house elves, running her bath water and adding things to it. She stared at the busy creatures, who stopped what they were doing and curtsied.

"Hello, Miss. I is Bottleblue and this is Merryweather. We is to attend you and helps you prepares," one elf with beautiful blue eyes said, smiling shyly.

"I . . . I was just going to take a shower," Hermione said to the creature, who shook her head.

"Oh, no, Miss. This is special. You is to be pampered. A bath, a shampoo, manicure, pedicure, shave, massage. It is very good to be pampered before the in-outie, Miss. Makes you nice and relaxed and ready," the elf said as the other nodded enthusiastically.

Hermione blinked at the two elves. Pampered? Well, that didn't sound too bad at all. And she hadn't given a thought to a manicure or pedicure. A massage sounded very nice, too. She wasn't about to look a gift elf in the mouth.

Wait. In-outie?

Hermione blushed as she realized the elf was referring to sex. She wasn't sure how much house elves knew about sex, but there were plenty of them around Hogwarts, so they must know something.

"All right," she said.

"That's good, Miss," Bottleblue said, approaching her with the other elf. "You just lets us do the work."

The two elves helped remove Hermione's housecoat and she did just that.

* * *

As Snape lay soaking, he pondered his approach to the witch. Hermione wasn't a virgin. He'd seen to that years ago, but the act was hardly one of love. He had been young and randy, greedily taking what the witch gave him. He'd been selfish, like most wizards of that tender age were wont to be. He had also been rather brutal, riding her body wildly. The sex had been good for both of them, for what it was worth, but she was deserving of far better treatment than that.

This was a young woman who had saved his life, twice. Not only saved his life, but the lives of thousands. There were people on this earth who would have never existed if not for her courage and selflessness. True, he had been the one to remove Tom Riddle from his mortal coil, but if Hermione had not come to him, he wouldn't have lifted a finger to try and stop the despot until it was too late. Although they both could be considered heroes, it was Hermione's actions that brought the change about, that made the real difference.

And now this incredibly brave witch was waiting for him to connect with her again, waiting for him to show her his love. And, Severus Snape did love Hermione Granger, not only for what she'd done for him, but for who she was. A brilliant, sometimes explosive young woman who had the heart of a lion . . . willing to work hard and face anything to get what she wanted. Hermione was focused and dedicated. There was nothing air-headed or shallow about her. True, she had some maturing to do, but he was sure as time passed, she would only become better, stronger and more alluring to him. Knowing that such a promising witch only had eyes for him was quite heady, and Snape was grateful to whatever powers of destiny that brought such a gem into his life. He had no intentions of ruining this blessing. He would treat her with kindness and respect, outside of work time, that is. He did have an obligation to her as well. There would be difficult times ahead.

He only hoped Hermione could stand the pressures of apprenticeship. He'd ordered a book for her, entitled "The Autobiography of a Potions Master," by Eliot Burke. This book was written by a master that lived three centuries ago, before the "new" traditions of physical intimacy between apprentices and masters took over. He recounts the difficulties of apprenticeship and how there were times he loathed his master, who worked him mercilessly from dawn to dusk, comparing it to indentured servitude. There was quite a bit of colorful language involved when he described master Toorahloo, but in the end, the wizard assured his readers it had all been worth it when he was presented to the Masters a second time, as a full Potions master of great skill and confidence.

Snape intended to give her the book as required reading tomorrow morning, and to hold off on starting the apprenticeship until after she'd read it, which would probably be a day or two. Hermione was a voracious reader.

The wizard stood up and rinsed off, his bath finished. He drained the tub, dried off with a fluffy Slytherin green towel, then strode into his bedroom to find two house elves carefully elevating candles in his bedroom. There was a slight scent of musk in the air, calming and pleasant, but not too overpowering. Extra pillows rested at the head of his four-poster bed, and matched the green and silver silk sheets that covered it. One corner of the bedcovering was pulled back tastefully, as if waiting for someone to slide in.

On the nightstand by the bed rested several small bottles of potions, just in case they were needed. One was a contraceptive. Yes, that would definitely be needed. Contraception could be cast by wand, of course, but a potion was better. As much as he cared for Hermione, Snape wasn't willing to impregnate her. She had so much to accomplish.

Maybe in a few years . . .

Snape forced the thought out of his head. What the hell was he doing, thinking about . . . about babies? Gah!

He needed a drink and now.

He walked over to his dresser, opened the drawer and took out a pair of black, silk pajamas. He'd had them for some time, a Christmas gift from Albus and Minerva. Since he usually slept in the nude, he hadn't much use for them. But as he held them against his body in the mirror, he thought they were quite nice. They were soft and light. Smooth to the touch.

He put them on and studied himself in the dresser mirror, running his hand over his chin. He thought he felt a little stubble and returned to the bathroom to shave. He was old-fashioned when it came to shaving and took out a kit containing a straight razor, a strop, strop paste, a shaving brush and razor hone. Snape enjoyed the delicate process of shaving, of placing the finely honed blade against his flesh and feeling it ease across his skin. It was an art to be able to shave in such a manner, and he'd done it for years, although in the beginning he took quite a few nicks before getting the technique down.

Snape arranged his utensils and checked the sharpness of the blade by drawing it across the ball of his thumb. It was fine. He wet down his face and applied a soap he'd created himself. He carefully applied the razor, rinsing it often beneath the faucet. After he finished, he patted his face dry with a towel, then ran his hand over his chin again. Yes, nice and smooth.

He did a bit of maintenance on his razor, carefully drying it completely and applying a light oil to the blade before putting the kit away. He walked back into the bedroom to find the house elves strewing rose petals on his bed.

Of course, he scowled. Snape didn't like roses in this timeline any better than he did in the other.

"Nix the roses," he growled at the elves, who both looked at him wide-eyed before doing as he asked.

But as an afterthought, Snape told them, "Leave a long-stemmed rose on the night stand."

One bloody rose wouldn't kill him.

The Potions master stepped into a pair of black slippers, then walked into the study. He walked back into the bedroom immediately.

"Get out here," he snarled at the elves, who followed him, ears flattened.

Working with professor Snape was never an easy chore.

Snape swept his hand across the room. All of the furniture had been rearranged to accommodate what had been placed there.

"What is that?" the wizard asked the cringing elves.

"A . . . a table, sir," one elf stammered.

It was a table all right. About fifteen feet long, covered in a Slytherin green tablecloth and with chairs at both ends of it. A silver candelabra rested dead center, the flickering lights not reaching either end of the table. Snape shook his head.

"How am I supposed to talk to her? By shouting? I want a more intimate setting. Now," Snape said to the elves.

The house elves quickly reduced the table to a more manageable size.

"Better," he snapped. "Now, leave. I will summon you when it's time to serve our meal."

The elves quickly and happily departed his domain, winking out instantly.

Snape walked over to the liquor cabinet and fixed himself a small Firewhiskey. He downed it in one quick swallow, cleaned and replaced the glass. He glanced at the clock. It was only seven o'clock. He had another hour yet.

* * *

Hermione lay on her stomach nude and nearly purring as the house elves gently massaged her with a light, unscented oil, smoothing their hands over her body and working the oil into her skin. It tingled slightly.

"This is the life," she thought as she lay there with her eyes closed.

Her nails and toes had been done, but she didn't allow them to put any polish on them because of her potions work. Her hair was soft, shining and slightly curling and all extraneous hair had been removed from her body, and her pubic hair was cut into a nice heart shape. There was enough hair left to assure the professor he was with a woman, not a girl.

"We is done. Now, to dress," Bottleblue said.

Hermione turned over and looked at the lovely green silk nightgown the elves held stretched between them. It was long and made of silk, with thin straps.

"The Snape likes green," Bottleblue said.

They helped Hermione put it on and gave her a pair of soft, matching slippers to go with it. Then she drew a silk silver robe over it. It had no tie however, so the wizard would be able to see her curves. Hermione looked at herself in the mirror.

"Oh, my," she said, staring at the woman looking back at her.

"You is beautiful," Bottleblue said, "just beautiful, Miss."

Hermione gave her a smile.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Both elves curtsied, then winked out, leaving her alone.

"I just hope Severus thinks so," she breathed looking back at herself in the mirror, before looking up at the clock. It was one minute to eight.

"Oh, I've got to meet him," she said, hurrying out the room and up the hall just as the wall to her quarters rose.

She stopped, staring at the opening as Snape entered, his black eyes shifting to her hair, then moving down her gown, falling on the green slippers.

He swallowed.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, "the most beautiful creature I've laid eye on in many, many years, Hermione Granger. I am . . . honored."

Hermione blinked at him, at the black silk pajamas covering his lean frame and his shining hair. He looked . . . edible as he approached her, offering his arm and looking down at her.

"Supper awaits," he said softly, guiding her from her domain into his.

"And . . . dessert," Hermione breathed up at him, her belly full of fire.

Snape smirked slightly as he led her out of her quarters.

"Yes, a very rich dessert," he agreed.

* * *

A/N: Ah, build-up. Gotta love it, even if the whole story has been buildup. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	50. Dinner and Dessert

**Chapter 50 Dinner and Dessert**

Merryweather looked around Snape's bedroom apprehensively as Bottleblue put the final touches on the four-poster bed. Both elves heard Hermione and Snape enter and Merryweather's ears folded to her head in terror.

"The Snape not likes us in here," the elf whispered as Bottleblue brushed off her hands and looked at her work with satisfaction. "And he not likes this, I is sure."

Bottleblue gave her a naughty little smile.

"He is with the Miss now. When he enters, when he sees, it won't matters. All that will matters is the Miss," she said confidently. "Can't you feels it, Merry? Nothing but the Miss. Not even potions."

Merry seemed to concentrate, then nodded.

"Still, I wants out of here," the elf said, her ears still flattened.

"The last pampering is done. We go," Bluebottle said, winking out, followed by a relieved Merryweather.

Bottleblue insisted on inspecting the Potions master's bedchambers to see if it were suitable for the Miss. The elf was very serious about her service, particularly since there weren't many to serve at Hogwarts during the summer months. She and Merry were the envy of the other elves, who were relegated to just cleaning the castle and finding things to do.

The little addition she made was quite nice. It should be well-received, if the couple stopped long enough to notice it.

* * *

Snape settled Hermione into her seat, then sat down himself and clapped his hands. Immediately, two nervous looking house elves appeared, ears flattened and each carefully bearing a tray with a small meal on it, One had a bottle of white wine. Carefully, they set the food and wine on the table, bowed and exited.

Hermione looked down at the meal. It was quite nice and light as the professor promised. Roasted orange-and-bell pepper soup, scallops and pasta with pistachio-parsley pesto, and for dessert, spiced figs in red wine. Two slices of crusty French bread accompanied the meal. Hermione watched as Severus carefully poured the wine.

"It looks delicious," she said softly as he passed her a glass of wine, his eyes resting on her cleavage, the green gown and open silver robe for a moment.

"Not as delicious as you," he replied.

His voice sounded a bit raw under the silkiness, and Hermione blushed, looking down at her soup and picking up her spoon. She began to eat, as did the professor.

It was a quiet meal, and rather tense from Hermione's side. The Potions master's eyes rarely left her, and it was disquieting and made her feel self-conscious. Snape did his best not to stare, but . . . she was so lovely . . . and soon she would be in his arms. He had been at half-mast since the moment he laid eyes on her, and couldn't help his reaction, willing her to eat faster.

Hermione was nervous, mentally telling herself to calm down. Gods, she hated the way she was running hot and cold. Throughout the day there were moments when she felt she couldn't stand not to be in his arms, and then there were others where she felt like curling up into a ball. She bit into her last fig, the professor watching her.

He had already finished his dessert and watched her consume the last of her meal. She put her spoon down and slowly looked up at him across the table.

"I'm finished," she announced unnecessarily.

"As am I," he said to her softly, rising, Hermione's brown eyes turning upward as he walked around the table and gently pulled out her chair, helping her up.

"Our moment has arrived, Hermione Granger. I've waited nearly half my life for you," Snape said. "Half my life to claim the woman who saved the whole of it."

He gently enfolded Hermione in his arms, embracing her tenderly, feeling her quiver against the hardness of his body before she relaxed in his arms. She didn't feel frightened anymore, but . . . protected. She looked up at him.

"It's really happening, isn't it?" she asked him, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Yes," Snape replied, kissing her.

Once again, Hermione felt herself heat up under the sensual contact of his lips, and her arms slid around his neck, drawing him closer, returning his kiss hungrily, the indecision inside her swiftly shifting to the "Yes" side. Yes to everything that was about to happen. She breathed it against his lips.

"Yessssssss."

Snape slipped one hand into the mass of soft curls, cupping her head, and let one hand slide reverently down her back, shifting over slightly to caress the curve of her hip. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric clinging to her body, heat he would soon touch without any obstructions. Touch and more than touch.

Hermione felt the wizard's hand slide over her hip and the fabric between it and her skin and pulled away from him suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked her, frowning slightly as she slipped out of his grasp.

In answer, Hermione slipped her silver house coat off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, revealing the thin straps of her nightgown and the smooth, naked flesh of her shoulders and cleavage. Her nipples were puckered with desire, the tight buds clearly visible beneath the green silk, and the way the gown fell against her body, it was clear to see she wore nothing beneath it.

Snape stared at her, a helpless sound emitting from the back of his throat before she moved back into him.

"That's what was wrong," she said to him, drawing him back down into another kiss and pulling him back towards the rearranged sofa. Snape followed her, his hands resting on her waist, feeling her warmth even more, her body soft beneath his hands, willing to go wherever she led him. Hermione stopped when she felt the sofa hit the back of her legs, then pulled away from his kiss again.

But this time the Potions master wasn't so willing to let her break the kiss, and quickly darted back in claiming her mouth hungrily, kissing her fully, delving into her heat and sweetness with an urgency she hadn't felt from him before. Hermione gasped as he gathered her body to his, feeling his full-blown erection pressing into her belly, long, hot and pulsing beneath his clothing.

She pushed against his chest, breaking contact, the Potion master breathing heavily as he looked down at the woman in his arms.

"What now?" he hissed, wanting her back against him.

Hermione's hands moved to the top button of his pajama shirt, and slowly she unfastened it. Snape's hands dropped to his sides as he silently watched her unbutton his pajama top, her small hands hesitating from time to time as she looked up at him, his eyes glinting and nostrils flared. She half expected him to snort a waft of smoke at her as she worked her way downward, then parted his shirt, revealing a lean torso and slightly ridged belly, a smattering of hair around his navel that thickened as it disappeared into the waist of his bottoms, which were slightly ballooned in front.

Hermione's brown eyes drifted down his chest, noting how it rose and fell as if he'd been engaged in some strenuous activity. She placed both hands on his chest, running them over his skin, feeling the strength of his body beneath her palms as she slid them under the fabric over his shoulders. They flexed slightly, the wizard's eyes closing with pleasure as she ran her hands slowly back down, exploring his chest and the ridges of his belly, sliding around his waist, curious, compelling, nearly innocent, but not quite as her fingertips met at the small of his back.

"Take off your shirt," Hermione said, the wizard's eyes opening, his face contorted slightly with lust. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? How she made him feel? He loved her, but gods she made him want to just . . . just . . .

Snape caught himself and did as she asked, removing his shirt and letting it fall to the floor, standing before her half-naked, his pale upper body open for scrutiny and exploration. He stepped out of his black slippers as well.

Hermione ran one hand down the center of his chest.

"Your skin, it's so pale. Like alabaster. You're like a living statue," she said to him softly.

"I'm no statue, Hermione," he breathed back at her, "although some parts of me are hard as stone at this moment."

Hermione's eyes dropped to the tent in his trousers just as it bounced noticeably. Biting her lower lip and meeting Snape's eyes, she slowly drew her hand down his chest once more, then over his belly, then gently eased it over his covered erection, the wizard letting out a hiss, his eyes fluttering as he felt her caress him with her fingertips.

"That's not so frightening," she said softly, echoing the words he spoke to her so many years ago when she first touched him so intimately.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said to her hoarsely. "Very glad indeed, Hermione Granger."

Suddenly, Snape grasped Hermione's waist and lifted her against him, the witch's gown riding up and her slippers dropping off as her legs reflexively wrapped around the wizard's waist, bringing her core into contact with his swollen erection as he hungrily claimed her mouth again, his hands slipping down to her buttocks, holding her steady, his palms full of her curves as she looped her arms around his neck, letting her head drop back as his lips moved over her throat, his breathing harsh as he shifted her against him, rubbing his crotch against her heat, her naked thighs wrapped around him.

Hermione moaned as she felt him grinding against her, lifting and shifting her body, rolling it against his cock hungrily, the front of his silk trousers moist with her juices as the scent of her arousal rose like a musky, maddening perfume.

"Oh gods, Severus," Hermione hissed as she felt his teeth scrape her shoulder, drawing down the thin strap, then kissing her skin feverishly. "Kiss me more, touch me more. I'm burning up. Please."

The wizard lowered her to the sofa, his fingers fumbling slightly as he pulled down the other strap then roughly yanked her gown downward, exposing her breasts, then paused, catching himself before he completely lost control. He stared down at Hermione, her hair wild around her head, her brown eyes heated, her breasts puckered and exposed, then carefully climbed on to the sofa, easing forward on his hands and knees, poised over her outstretched and slightly undulating body, his black hair a curtain around his face as he looked down at her.

"I remember this," he said softly, his dark eyes softening, "not quite like this, but looking down on you, before I took you. It's like turning time backwards, Hermione, and getting a second chance."

He leaned downward and captured her lips between his own, suckling them before entering her mouth and kissing her deeply, Hermione's arms twining around his neck, her breasts barely touching his chest. They kissed passionately, only their lips connecting fully although Hermione arched several times longing for full contact with the wizard's lean body. Snape pulled away slowly.

"This time," he breathed, "this time will be different. You'll feel more than my lust, Hermione. I'm no longer that randy young boy who took advantage of an opportunity to shag a brilliant young witch who came to save a world . . . to save me. How ungrateful I was."

Hermione blinked up at him.

"You weren't ungrateful, Severus, just young . . . and maybe lonely," she said to him softly.

Snape nodded slightly, his eyes washing over her body again before resting on her face.

"Yes. Young and an opportunist. I didn't know what a jewel you were when you came to me, although I had some inkling. Thank the gods you still felt drawn to me in this timeline. I can try and correct my error. I can show you the tenderness that you deserve," he said, drawing closer to kiss her again.

Hermione turned her head slightly.

"Not too much tenderness, I hope. I'd rather . . . rather have your passion rather than your restraint," she told him. "I know how you feel about me. You've been kind to me from the day I arrived at Hogwarts. You've been careful, even calculating concerning me, Severus. I know you have. And I appreciate it, but . . . if we're to be a couple, I need to know the real man, not the careful, methodical one who treats me as if I'm made of glass. I'm not made of glass, Severus, and I don't need a pedestal. All I need is you, the real you. I'm not afraid."

Severus gave her a slight, somewhat sad smile, moving her hair out of her face.

"The real me," he said, "isn't all that pretty, Hermione Granger."

It was Hermione's turn to smile as she tentatively caressed his large nose.

"I've never done 'pretty' well anyway. I prefer 'substance,'" she replied, now letting her fingers play through the lank, black hair swinging around his face. It was soft and fine.

"I've got plenty of that," he crooned, lowering his mouth to hers and beginning the journey to bliss.

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A/N: Ah, at last. Yumminess around the corner. Hermione is a little lioness in more ways than one, isn't she? She's claiming this situation. You go girl. Drop those robes, open that shirt, bring him to the sofa. Oh yeah. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	51. A Mutual Moment

**WARNING: Explicit Adult Content in this Chapter.  


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Chapter 51 A Mutual Moment

Severus and Hermione's mouths met, hunger to hunger, heat to heat, the electricity of their passion crackling through their bodies, the wizard lowering himself to deepen that delicious connection. His body rested on hers as he used his hands to keep his full weight off of her. As Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck, Snape felt like a man who had finally come home from a long journey.

Oh, the feel of Hermione beneath him was wonderful, heady, the scent of her skin, clean, womanly, and the taste of her mouth, indescribable. Her lips and questing tongue met his own with equal ardor, her breathing heavy and body undulating, her softness like an aphrodisiac.

Hermione tilted her head back, gasping as she felt the Potions master slide his lips to her throat, moving over her flesh, suckling and kissing, almost seeming to taste her. She let out a helpless moan of pleasure, arching up into his hard body. It felt as if she were on fire, waves of desire washing over her as he returned to her mouth for several seconds, then moved lower, shifting his lean body, now moving his mouth over the mound of her right breast, as one hand caressed the curve of the other.

"Oh dear gods," Hermione hissed as the wizard suddenly stopped, his mouth poised over her puckered nipple, his dark eyes meeting hers. They seemed so large and liquid, Hermione felt hypnotized, then gasped as he flicked his tongue over the tip of her breast, still looking at her, watching her reaction to him.

Hermione's mouth formed an "o" of pleasure, the feeling intensified by how he was looking at her as he teased her nipple again, catching it gently between his lips and tugging lightly before releasing it. Oh, it was an exquisite torture.

"Your mouth . . . oh, your mouth, Severus," Hermione breathed, helplessly bringing her hand to the back of his head and pushing downward, feeling his soft, wet mouth cover her nipple and begin to suckle as he swirled his tongue in tangent. It felt so good, as if little sparks of pleasure were shooting through her skin.

Severus gently wrapped his arms around Hermione's back and pulled her upward as he carefully shifted and helped her adjust her legs so she was on her knees, her breasts jutting out as she arched back over his arms. On his own knees, the wizard bent his body, curling it slightly and shifting back so he could kiss, lick and suckle Hermione's torso, neck and breasts, driving her wild with his mouth, his hands sliding up the smooth skin of her back, and curling over her shoulders.

"Oh gods, Severus," Hermione moaned as he changed his worship of her body, his mouth connecting with hers, hungry, demanding, full of need and desire. Once again he explored her mouth like a starving man, delving and tasting, losing himself in his desire for the maddening young woman in his arms.

Gods, she was so young, but so beautiful. And there was a subtle sense of familiarity, even after all these years. Yes, he had her before, but nothing like this. There was nothing of the connection he felt now, or the need that tore through his body. Hermione Granger was his savior, and his weakness. He needed to possess her fully, to bring her into his desire, his hunger, his control. He needed to bury himself in the fullness of who and what she was, what she would become.

Severus Snape never put much truck in heaven, but right now he felt as if he'd found the way to that kind of bliss as his mouth moved over the moaning witch's flesh, her body arching against him in response. It was more than glorious . . . it was beautiful.

And Hermione . . . she had desired the wizard but had no idea how moving, how all-compassing this would be. His hunger . . . his passion. It was so earth-shaking to be in his arms, to feel his mouth moving over her, to see those dark eyes drinking her in like ambrosia. Merlin, she hungered for him, but never imagined it would be like this.

But, she needed more . . . this was mind-boggling. Exciting. Her body felt as if it were starving, burning . . . and this . . . as good as it was, wasn't enough. And she wasn't afraid to say it.

"Severus, take off your clothes," she breathed into his mouth. "Get naked. I want to see you, touch you. I've wanted to touch you for so long."

The Potions master stopped kissing Hermione, pulling back from her mouth, his dark eyes full of desire.

"Then we both get naked, Hermione," he hissed at her, his lust taking him over.

Hermione, whose gown was already around her waist, agreed.

"I want to feel you skin to skin," she said softly. "I want to feel you close to me."

Snape studied her face, the longing he saw there, the fire that burned only for him and was moved, physically and emotionally. Hermione wanted him.

"Yes, love," he replied, grazing her lips with his own, then adding, "I plan to get as close to you as humanly possible."

Snape reluctantly released Hermione, his hands sliding across the soft skin of her back as if to get in one last touch before he moved back on the sofa, then stood, catching Hermione by her hand and helping the witch to her feet. He stared down at her, the gown gathered around her waist, and hair falling over her shoulders reminding him somewhat of a bare-breasted nymph. He made a sound in the back of his throat as Hermione grasped his hands and brought them to the folds of fabric around her waist.

"Take it off, Severus," she said softly.

His nostrils flaring, Snape slowly knelt, drawing the gown over her hips, thighs and legs. One of her hands rested on his shoulder as Hermione stepped out of the fabric. The wizard's eyes rested on the little heart-shaped bush at her apex, and he couldn't help smirking slightly at the design, a rather raunchy thought making its way into his head for a moment. A heart was cute . . . but a better design might have been a bull's-eye.

He pushed the naughty thought out of his head as he stood. Still there was a tiny, residual wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

Hermione stared up at him, her brown eyes flicking down to his tented pajama bottoms.

"Your turn," she said huskily, expectancy and excitement on her face.

"You like giving orders, don't you, witch?" Snape purred at her.

"I'm naturally bossy," Hermione replied, pulling on the elastic of his pajamas and letting it snap back naughtily.

Snape wondered if she would be 'bossy' in the bedroom. That would be an added plus. He liked a woman who would say what she wanted, even demand it.

Without hesitation, Snape drew down his pajama bottoms and stepped out of them, his stiff, pale erection bouncing into view as if it had been on a spring. Hermione's eyes rounded as she looked at the thick, long tool. She remembered he'd been big, but now he seemed much bigger. She swallowed a little as she stared down at his cock, mesmerized, almost as if she'd forgotten there was a man attached to it.

Snape cleared his throat, and Hermione looked up at him as if he'd suddenly appeared out of nowhere, her eyes slightly glassy. The wizard brought his hand to the curve of her face and caressed it gently.

"It will be fine, Hermione," he said softly. "We aren't strangers. Now, you said you wanted to touch me. You can start anywhere."

Hermione blinked at him, and decided to take the bull by the horns, or the Potions master by the wand. Bravely, she curled her warm palm around the shaft of his organ, the wizard jerking and letting out a hiss in response, his lower lip trembling a moment as he looked down at her hand, thinking it was the most erotic sight he'd ever seen.

Hermione noticed his response, and it made her feel . . . well, more in control. Obviously her touching him this way gave him great pleasure. He kind of felt at her mercy.

How much mercy did she have? In this situation, not much. She brazenly cupped his balls with her other hand and was rewarded with another jerk and shudder from the wizard. She began to gently massage the soft, cool sack in one hand, and tenderly caress his length with the other, looking up at him as his head shifted back, his eyelids fluttering, his loins helplessly pushing forward as she worked her hands and fingers, shifting the stones inside between them.

"Dear Merlin," Snape breathed as she manipulated his most sensitive area, his cock feeling as heavy as stone in her soft, inquisitive hands. His voice was so full of pleasure Hermione felt an answering pulse between her thighs.

His foreskin was delicate and bunched under her movements, and she saw the pinkish head was leaking murky fluid. She ran a thumb over it, spreading it over the bulbous tip, making it glisten as if oiled. Snape let out a groan, suddenly leaned forward, bending slightly and kissing her mouth hungrily, his hands at his sides, only their lips connecting.

Hermione returned his kiss, opening her mouth and letting him enter, while still caressing his cock, loving the ardor of his kiss, the way he was sucking her tongue into his mouth, lapping at it and entwining it in his own. His breathing was harsh, and she could feel the warmth of his exhalation on her face as those large nostrils pulsated fiercely. She might not have much experience, but right now, she was the one in control.

Snape suckled, lapped and invaded Hermione's mouth as she handled him, forcing himself not to grab her. If he grabbed her, more than likely they wouldn't make it to his bedroom, he wanted to feel her around him so badly. But Hermione wasn't having it.

"Touch me, Severus," she hissed against his mouth, and he brought his hands directly to her breasts, grasping and massaging them, making Hermione's temperature rise another hundred degrees . . . at least, that's how it felt to the witch. Still, kissing her, Snape slowly slid one hand down her belly, over the soft heart and slipping a single pale finger between her thighs, touching her wet core. Now, it was Hermione's turn to jerk and buckle. Snape pressed the other hand against the small of her back as he began to gently rub the witch's clit, Hermione beginning to writhe, now giving the wizard a hand job in earnest. They stood there, shuddering, kissing and working each other's bodies hungrily, the scent of arousal filling the study as they engaged.

Hermione was up on her tiptoes, a sweet feeling spreading across her lower belly, swelling at her apex where the wizard's fingers were playing a symphony on her tender, pink flesh, sticky with her juices. It felt as if a knot were forming inside her, impossibly tight and delicious. A light sheen of perspiration covered her body, and Snape pressed his hand against the small of her back tighter, his fingers splayed, resting on the curve of her buttocks as he felt her begin to tremble uncontrollably.

"Yes," he breathed against her mouth. "Come for me, Hermione."

Suddenly, Hermione let out a cry and clutched his cock tightly in her fist, choking it as she released, Snape curling one arm around her shuddering shoulders and hissing as she tightened her hold on him, drenching his fingers in wetness as she melted, her mouth going slack, her head falling back. Snape stared at Hermione, greatly satisfied as she gave herself over, his mouth watering. Suddenly, he picked her up and quickly sat her on the sofa, angling her so her back rested in the corner on both the arm and back, then knelt.

He jerked her downward a bit, pulling her legs apart, then dove into her moist, pink core, tasting the nectar she had released as she squealed, having never experienced a man's tongue. Well, she was certainly experiencing it now, her hands tangling in the wizard's hair as he thoroughly cleansed her of every drop of her climax.

"Oh my . . . Severus! Shit! Shit!" she gasped, writhing under his tongue, the wizard firmly holding her open to him, merciless in his quest to ingest every sweet emission she gifted him with. Finally, he stopped, gently kissing her pussy several times before pulling himself upward, meeting her lips with his own and sharing the flavor of her body. Hermione didn't balk at it . . . she was in no condition to stop anything he wanted to do to her at this point. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss passionately, a bit of her hair getting into their mouths as they connected.

They kissed until their breathing slowed to normal, then Snape pulled away, his dark eyes full of hunger.

"The preliminaries are over, Hermione. I believe it is time to retire to my bedroom," he said softly as he looked into her heated brown eyes.

"Yes, it is," she agreed, her body feeling boneless, but still hungry.

Snape sat up and pulled her onto his lap. Hermione hissed as her buttocks rested on his erection, which felt like a steel pole wrapped in soft velvet. The wizard stood up and carried her into his bedroom, their eyes locked.

Snape kicked the door closed with his foot, walked forward a foot or two, then stopped in amazement. Hermione felt him stiffen and looked in the direction he was looking, her brown eyes widening in surprise and awe.

"What in the world . . ." she breathed as they both gazed upon Bottleblue's addition to their night of love.

Snape had to admit, it was inspired.

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A/N: Finally, a chapter for Turn. This chapter was written in bits and pieces. I'm trying to readjust to being a full-time babysitter again, and there are other life issues I'm dealing with. All babies are different, and little Trinity seems to be the crankiest grandchild yet. lol. And Tweet and Terrill are little handfuls. But, I'm falling into the groove again. I'll have them under control in a bit . . . just need to fall back into the groove of Authorative Grandma, not "run to" grandma, Ah, change is the only constant in the universe, isn't it? Well, I hope the chapter came out all right. Thank you for reading.


	52. Getting a Feel for Things

**Chapter 52 Getting a Feel for Things**

"What is that?" Hermione asked Snape.

They were both nude, the witch nestled comfortably in the wizard's arms as they stared at the bed. Scented candles floated overhead, bathing the room in a warm, romantic glow. The heavy, Slytherin green curtains that normally hung on the four-poster bed had been replaced by light, gauzy draperies, neatly tied back to the wooden posts so the couple wouldn't have to wrestle through them. But what Severus and Hermione stared at wasn't in the bed but floated just outside it.

"Goss-mirrors," Snape replied softly as he looked at the airy looking mirror hovering just outside the bed. Another one floated on the other side, the bed sandwiched between them.

"Gossamers?" Hermione repeated as she studied the floating images, because that what they looked like. Ghostly, rectangular-shaped projections.

"No," Snape said softly. "Goss-mirrors. Weightless, airy mirrors made of magic that will reflect what's before them in any perspective that comes to mind once we've passed through them. They are used in a number of ways, usually as visual aids for delicate, intricate assembly of magical items . . . but . . ."

He looked at Hermione with hot eyes.

" . . . in this case, they are meant to enhance our night, Hermione. We will be able to see ourselves in any way we wish . . . and the thought won't have to be conscious. When you look into the mirror, the most desirable viewpoint will be seen without the mirrors seeming to move, although they will. Very nice magic, indeed."

Severus walked forward and passed through the closest Goss-mirror, which parted like mist as he did so, resealing itself as the Potions master placed Hermione in the bed and looked down at her. Behind him, Hermione could see the mirror focused on her face, very close and she looked so beautiful. She brought her hand to her face, amazed.

"Is that how I really look?" she asked the wizard, whose dark eyes rested on the mirror across from him.

"To me, yes . . . Hermione, and it still doesn't do you justice," he said softly, climbing into the bed and lying down on his back. Hermione sat up, next to him, her brown eyes slowly moving down his body. Severus could see what she saw, every ridge and muscle, his swollen organ and sinewy thighs. Then the mirror shifted to his left forearm, which was smooth and pale. His brow furrowed.

"You had a mark there, once," Hermione said softly, her fingertips trailing across his pale skin gently. "A skull . . . a snake . . ."

"Yes. It was Tom Riddle's mark. He used it to summon, track and torture," Snape replied, running a pale finger down her thigh gently. "I also had scars . . . many scars from the scourgings he'd give me . . ."

"And you were thin, terribly thin . . . from mistreatment and worry," the witch said, her voice quavering and eyes beginning to fill as the alternate memory of him, how he was and how he suffered became clearer.

Snape reached up and drew her down against him, nuzzling her throat with his large nose, breathing her in, one hand caressing the small of her back

"That man never existed, Hermione, thanks to you," he said softly, "I was spared the horror of that dismal existence because you came to me. I am forever in your debt."

Snape slid one hand into Hermione's hair and gently pulled her mouth against his, kissing the witch tenderly. She lay atop him full length now, and his organ pulsed against her belly urgently. The wizard caressed her curves reverently, loving the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers. The mirrors reflected the caresses, his hands moving slow motion over her buttocks, then the perspective changed to their kisses, lips meeting, parting, and mouth consuming mouth, over and over.

Suddenly, Hermione shifted downward, her lips moving over Snape's throat, the wizard's head tilting back to give her access. Merlin, her mouth felt so good on his skin. He let out a small groan as she shifted downward further, kissing his chest now. He let his arms fall to the mattress, allowing the witch to do what she would, unhindered, and she rose to her hands and knees, now doing to him what he had done to her on the sofa in the study.

Turnabout was fair play, especially in this situation. Hermione planned to do her best to please him. She didn't want him to see her as a young woman, but a woman.

Hermione was so aware of every hiss uttered and every jerk of the wizard's body as she pressed her lips to him, feeling the ridges of his musculature. The musk of his maleness rose as she slid lower still and gently moved his cock aside so she could kiss his lower belly.

Severus hissed as she blew on the base of his cock, then held it up before her face. He turned his head and the Goss-mirror showed Hermione close up, in profile, his thick, rigid organ before her face, her lips slightly parted and glistening, her eyes shining as she stared at it.

"Dear gods," Snape groaned as watched the image, which zoomed in closer, focusing on Hermione's moist mouth, her little pink tongue emerging and the tip of it flicking over his tightened foreskin, which shifted slightly from the contact.

Snape let out another groan at both the view and the sensation. Hermione's lips then curved into a sexy and rather naughty smile. The image couldn't have been more erotic if it had a full Blue Pensieve crew directing it.

Snape hadn't expected this from the witch as Hermione pressed her lips to his cock, kissing it as if it were an elongated cheek. It was clear she hadn't done this before, so her technique was rather different. She was learning as she went along and to be honest, having his cock kissed in such a manner was rather a turn-on. It had in its time been sucked, licked, jerked and nibbled on-- but never really kissed before. It made the act between them even more intimate and he closed his eyes in pleasure as her puckered lips covered every inch of his erection from tip to base.

His eyelids fluttered as she lingered over the head, kissing the leaking tip and tasting his fluids. The Potions master's dark eyes opened and he gazed down at her, Hermione's curly hair curtaining her face, shadowing it slightly. Suddenly, he wanted those innocent lips encircling his girth, caressing and suckling his length. Snape's nostrils flared.

"Hermione," he breathed softly, one hand reaching downward to move her hair aside so he could see her face. He cupped the back of her head. "Take me into that soft, warm, wet mouth."

"Like this?" she asked him in a husky voice, her brown eyes flicking to the mirror which showed a close-up of her pursed lips sliding snugly over the large fluted head and downward.

The mirror changed perspective and showed Snape's face. His mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled upward as he gasped, "Yessssss!"

His hand reflexively wrapped itself in Hermione's hair. She felt a dark thrill when she felt him grip her locks so tightly, the mirrors now reflecting her curls between his fingers.

Hermione then set about performing her first true act of fellatio, the hissing wizard guiding her head motions, cursing under his breath and praising the witch. It wasn't her artfulness that struck him and made him respond so passionately to her ministrations, but her passion as she applied herself. She coughed several times and he murmured to her to slow down, take her time and not to try to swallow him down. Snape gently pulled her away, smirking at the wetness in her eyes from her little bout of choking. The spirit was willing, but the cock was just too big.

"I'm too big, love," he said to her softly. "You can't possibly deep-throat me."

Hermione frowned at his cock as if it had in some way insulted her abilities.

"I bet I could if I had enough practice," she said to him, shaking his erection a little as if throttling it, not that the wizard minded. He hissed and arched an eyebrow at her.

Suddenly Snape drew her up his body and kissed her deeply, quieting her protests concerning his opinion of her "pleasuring" abilities. He had other things in mind, such as immersing himself in that curvaceous little body

"You can practice honing your skills at a later date," Snape breathed against her lips as he rolled his pelvis beneath her in an unmistakable way. "Now is our moment to turn back time."

Swiftly, he rolled Hermione over, now resting on top of her, his black hair swinging around his face as he stared down at her.

"I've longed for this moment, Hermione," he said to her passionately. "You have no idea how I've struggled to keep myself from you, how often I wanted say the hell with conventions, give in to your attempts to seduce me . . . throw your robes over your head and . . . "

His face contorted a moment as he stopped speaking, staring down at the witch beneath him, lust burning in his eyes. He seemed on the verge of losing control. Hermione caught her breath at the hunger in his eyes and the way he pressed his loins against her.

Snape shifted downward, forcing Hermione's legs apart, then covered Hermione's mouth with his own, letting his kiss speak for him as he gapped his thighs, using his strength to spread Hermione's legs even wider.

She let out another broken gasp as the wizard placed his swollen length against her core and raised himself up on his hands, breaking the kiss. Snape began to grind and wind his pelvis, rubbing his hardness back and forth against her in simulation of the sex act.

He stared down at Hermione, hitching his cock against her with some force, watching her reaction, waiting for some sign that she wanted and needed more, drinking in her gasps and moans as he moved against her.

"Do you want me, Hermione Granger?" he hissed at the slack-mouthed witch, her half-lidded eyes widened, her head falling to the side.

She saw them in the Goss-mirror, lying full length in the bed, Severus on top of her, his hair hiding almost all his profile but his nose as he stared down, all focus, his body flexing rhythmically, his flanks tightening and loosening, her own body moving in counterpoint. They looked so sexy, so in synch. Then the mirror switched to Snape's face, hovering over her own, pale and hungry. The look on his face was close to pain as he rolled his hips, urging her to follow his motions.

" Are you ready for me? Do you want me?" he asked her urgently, "Tell me, Hermione. Tell me you do. I've waited years for this moment, for this time, our time, to come again. All I need now is to hear you tell me you want me. Last time we were together, like this, you didn't have a choice—I was young, selfish, only interested in my own desires. I didn't give you a choice, then. But you have one now."

Snape stopped moving, waiting for her answer, waiting for her to make the choice he denied her so long ago. He knew she wanted him, he just needed to hear her say it, as if it would absolve him of his treatment of her so long ago.

Hermione looked up at him.

" I've waded through an ocean of time to come to this point," she said to him softly, repeating what she'd told him before. "Now, I'm ready to drown in the moment. Yes, I want you, Severus Snape— I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. Do it, Severus— do it now— please—"

Snape let out a shuddering breath as he rose to his knees and grasped one of Hermione's ankles, drawing her right leg up and resting it against one shoulder. He pushed her left thigh a bit, then grasped the base of his cock, letting the head of it fall on the perfectly cut heart, his eyes glittering. Hermione made a noise as the image of the thick head resting at her apex appeared on the mirror. Snape looked sidelong at it, then down at Hermione's body, petite, feminine and soon to be his.

The wizard swallowed, then adjusted himself, Hermione shifting as she felt his hardness press against her softness and move about, seeking the depression and finding it. Hermione felt a great pressure and longing as the Potions master found his mark. He leaned forward, her right leg shifting back, making her yet more accessible.

Snape's eyes met hers and he bit his lower lip and pressed forward, Hermione letting out a cry as she stretched around his girth. He penetrated her, slipping inside her warmth and letting out a growl of pleasure as her soft, tight sleeve surrounded him, warm, alive and pulsing. Hermione panted, her hands clutching at his waist as he slowly filled her. The friction was delicious as he came to rest deep inside her, connected. At last—they were one.

"Mmmmm," Snape growled, his eyes full of pleasure as he sat back on his heels, his cock shifting its angle inside her, Hermione sighing.

"Gods, your . . . you're so— so big, Severus," she gasped up at him.

"Tbe better to pleasure you, my dear," the Potions master purred, pulling her leg from his shoulder to his mouth and running his lips over her calf and ankle.

Then he drew back and thrust into the witch, his mouth dropping open for an instant and Hermione letting out a perfectly beautiful moan of pleasure. Her body checked the depth of his stroke, jerking slightly, her breasts bouncing.

Once again, the Goss-mirrors showed their full profile, the professor sitting on his heels, his cock embedded in the witch lying before him, one leg resting against his shoulder, her face the very expression of bliss.

Still, this was just the beginning.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	53. The Man and the Beast

Chapter 53 The Man and the Beast

Snape stared down at the lovely, brilliant witch before him, sheathed in her softness and warmth, her brown eyes glistening in the soft candlelight as she looked up at him.

"I've waited so long for this—for you," Hermione breathed.

Snape's dark eyes turned to the Goss-mirror, to the erotic image of him locked to her body, then back to Hermione. He made a sound in the back of his throat, unable to help reacting to how beautiful she looked at this moment. Finally, she was his in every sense of the word.

"I've waited a lifetime for you, Hermione Granger," he replied softly, thrusting into her again, deeply, urgently, her walls gripping him deliciously as he slid through her tight sleeve.

Severus Snape began to make love to Hermione Granger in earnest, lowering her leg and shifting forward, stretching his lean body over hers, staying connected, his mouth finding her mouth and consuming it as they consummated their passion for each other.

Snape rode Hermione tenderly, but passionately, holding back so as not to hurt her. Gods, he could hurt her without meaning to, she moved him so deeply.

Hermione moaned and murmured into his mouth, overwhelmed by the pleasure she felt as his thickness claimed her, his cock advancing and retreating, delving into the deepest part of her, the professor pausing and holding himself deep, then whirling his hips, winding around inside her before resuming his stroke. Gods, it felt so right, so good, his body flexing rhythmically, his loins slapping against hers, the warm sweat of his body dripping on to her own as he took her.

The Goss-mirrors were forgotten now. They needed no enhancements as their need and pleasure took them over, their kisses and movements hungrier now, Snape becoming more ardent as he lost himself in the witch, wanting to be closer, be more of a part of her, his stroke and strength increasing as he took her, his pale body gleaming with perspiration, his hair clinging to his head.

They rolled, Hermione on top of him now, still connected, driven by instinct and lust and love, her body working feverishly as it was her turn to take over, to dominate, everything inside her locked to him just as her body was, sliding over him, taking him in, undulating and rolling her hips, loving his gasps, sighs and curses as she took her fill of the wizard. Snape stared up at her, mesmerized, amazed and gratified as she rocked, bouncing on him, her body glistening, her dark hair in ringlets around her flushed face. He brushed her hair away, then yanked her downward, locking his lips to hers and wrapping his arms around her body, taking over, driving up into Hermione fast and furiously, the witch crying out into his mouth. But, he couldn't stop . . . it was too good.

Suddenly she stiffened, Snape letting out a gasp and stopping his stroke as she tightened around him, then melted, her body quivering as she let out a shuddering little cry, orgasming.

"Yes, witch," he purred against her ear as she bathed him in heat, her inner flesh pulsing and clutching his cock.

He kissed her, holding her close to him, reveling in her surrender, a feeling of jealousy rising in his chest. Hermione was his witch now, and would remain so. No one would take her from him. Younger, handsomer wizards would always be lurking about. He needed to tell her, show her how he felt.

'You're mine now. Mine, in every sense of the word," he said, breaking the kiss and staring up into her half-lidded brown eyes. "I love you, Hermione Granger, and I plan to love no one else for the rest of my days. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed, her eyes soft as she looked down at him. "No one else, Severus."

Still, he couldn't fight the jealousy in his heart. He had never had a woman of his own before, and he felt an intense need to claim Hermione in a way that would satisfy that dark impulse inside him. His life may have been much different because of the witch, but he was still covetous, still needed physical proof of things emotional.

"You told me you didn't want me to hold back, Hermione," he said to her quietly.

"No, I don't, Severus," she replied, a small quaver in her voice as she looked down at him with longing in her eyes. She wasn't ready to end this. She could feel him throb inside her, his hot, hard organ at part of her now. The room was full of the scent of their sex, musky, sensual and cloying. His hands slipped over her wet skin as he caressed her sides, his dark eyes fixed on her face before he gently lifted her off of him, Hermione letting out a small groan of protest as he broke their connection. His cock fell heavily to his belly as he moved her aside, then sat up.

"Get on your hands and knees, Hermione," he purred, getting to his own knees and edging behind her as she did as he asked. Snape leaned over Hermione, pressing his lips to her shoulders several times while caressing the soft curve of her buttocks, noting the contrast of their flesh, his hand large and pale against her darker skin. Her arse was so soft, round, pliant . . .

SMACK!

"Aarwk!" Hermione squealed as the Potions master slapped her cheek, then caught the jiggling flesh with his palm. He smoothed the sting gently.

Hermione panted, so turned on by the sharp, quick pain. Snape's lips curled against her ear as he heard her breathing quicken.

"You liked that," he said softly, slapping her cheek again, Hermione jerking, her mouth dropping open. "You seem to have a dark side, Hermione. Luckily for you, witch . . so do I. Let's—explore this . . ."

"Oh gods," she breathed, closing her eyes as he licked the side of her neck before latching on to it, worrying her skin with his teeth, marking her as Hermione moaned at the slight pain. Merlin, he was giving her a hickey. He slapped her arse again, and Hermione could actually feel the wetness between her legs increase. Snape nipped her shoulder, Hermione gasping, then shuddering as he gently rnbbed her clit with two fingers.

"There will be two types of sexual interaction between us, Hermione," Snape whispered to her, manipulating her core as she wriggled and moaned. He knew she could hear him. "There will be 'making love' to you, and then . . . there will be fucking you. However, I believe most of our intercourse will be someplace in the middle. You will have to get used to me, and I to you. I am going to learn everything about your body, about your reactions to me, what makes you break apart. You are not going to need or desire any other wizard. Ever."

He gently slipped two fingers into Hermione, wriggling them slightly before slowly thrusting, feeling her slippery warmth tighten around his digits as he worked them, pressing her clit lightly with his thumb. Hermione felt as if she'd found heaven as electricity shot through her and she dropped face first into the pillow.

"Perfect, Hermione," Snape breathed, straightening and removing his soaked finger, placing them into his mouth with a sigh and sucking them clean.

"Exquisite," he growled, placing one hand on the small of her back to hold her down, then lifting his cock and striking Hermione's flesh with it.

Hermione turned her head, letting out a little "ooh!" when she felt his hardness slap against her cheek. "Yessss!"

Snape's face contorted with lust when he heard her encouragement, and he struck Hermione several more times, her arse swinging about invitingly, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer and impaled her quickly and deeply, Hermione letting out a howl. Quickly, he stopped moving and leaned over her, kissing her temple and crooning at her.

"It's all right," he said softly, "just tell me if it isn't what you want."

But that ache was exactly what the witch wanted. Oh, it had felt incredible.

"Do it again," she breathed.

Snape drew back and hitched his hips forward, impaling her hard. Hermione didn't howl this time but let out a sound somewhere between a purr and a moan.

"That's so—oh gods—Severus . . ."

"Make love or fuck, Hermione?"

"Fuck, Severus. Find out what breaks me apart . . ."

Snape licked her earlobe, then straightened.

"I already know what, Hermione—me," he breathed gripping her waist and pulling her into his arching body, driving home, deep and sure, penetrating her body and trying to work his way into her very soul. He began to fuck the witch, his pelvis slapping against her arse as Hermione cried out, her voice garbled with passion, ache and surrender as she received her wizard, giving herself over to him, her body jerking. She felt him gathering her hair together, then pulling on it lightly, pulling her head back as if holding a rein. Oh gods, it was a turn on as she looked in the Goss-mirror and saw him behind her, his long cock appearing and disappearing, his head bowed, her hair in his fist, her arse up in the air being pounded hard and methodically. He grasped her forearm and pulled it back, still holding her hair, leaning back and letting his pelvis do all the work.

"You're so sexy," Hermione gasped helplessly between strokes, and this only served to make the wizard take her stronger, rising to his feet and crouching behind her, bending over her, both hands on either side of her head as he drove into her hungrily. Sexy? Hell, she had no idea how wild she was driving him. But by the way he was trying to drill for oil, she might have had an inkling, if she retained any cognizant thought.

But thought was out of the window now, for both of them. The Potions master put it to the witch mercilessly, and never once did she ask him to stop. Gods, she was strong, she was – perfect. Just perfect. He had worried about her youth and inexperience for nothing.

Hermione Granger was not only a brilliant witch but a lusty one. Their sex life would be phenomenal. He would never get enough of her. He felt her tighten around him again and groaned. She was climaxing again . . . and taking him with her this time.

"Noooo," he groaned, driving Hermione down to the bed in his ardor, trying to get the last bit of pleasure from her delicious body before he blew.

"You beautiful, sexy witch," he hissed in despair, "you're pulling me with you!"

Hermione couldn't say anything, she was so caught up in her own bliss. He could pummel her to putty and she would die a happy young woman.

"Arrrrgh!" Snape cried, slamming into Hermione, his back arching and head flung back so his face was turned toward the ceiling. It seemed as if every vein in his body tensed, his neck tight, and mouth slack as his release roared through him. Shot after hot, satisfying shot filled Hermione, thick rich seed sealing their union as they spun together, leaving earth for one perfect moment.

Snape collapsed on her back heavily, his nostrils pulsating as he gulped air, Hermione shuddering under him. He managed to roll off her, and turned the witch toward him. Her face as flushed and her eyes closed as he pulled her against him, racing heart pounding against racing heart. He kissed her forehead, then her soft lips and her eyes opened slowly.

He pulled back and stared at her as her mouth worked a bit. She said something.

"What, love?" he asked her, brushing a wet tangle of hair out of her face.

"You're an animal, Severus."

The wizard smirked, then let out a growl, nuzzling her with his big nose before rolling to his back and pulling her on top of him with a sigh.

"You bring out both the man and the beast in me, Hermione Granger," he replied as she rested her head against his chest and relaxed, letting sleep wash over her.

"That's fine, Severus—just fine," she responded heavily, yawning. Then she fell silent, her breathing becoming rhythmic.

Severus yawned as well, looking down at the top of her curly head, just able to see her long lashes resting against her cheeks, looking peaceful and satisfied as she lay on top of him.

"I can get used to this," he mused, closing his eyes, one arm flung over the small of her back protectively.

In a minute, he began to snore. Loudly. If Hermione hadn't been so exhausted, no doubt she would have cast a Silencing spell around him.

Apparently, not everything in their little world was going to be perfect. But hopefully, it would be damned close.

* * *

A/N: Ah, consummation. I'm almost ready to wrap this up, but there's one more little turn of events coming up. I think everyone will be glad about it too. No, not a baby. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	54. Assistance Needed

**Chapter 54 Assistance Needed**

Hermione's apprenticeship started about two weeks later. Despite his intentions of being a strong master to the witch, Snape was too caught up in their new intimacy to focus on her instruction. He had to get used to her first. And Hermione was a very naughty little witch. Some of his nicknames for her were "Succubus, Lolita and The Devil Herself."

Hermione didn't mind it a bit as she'd pull him down into kisses, or caress the front of his trousers, or wrap her arms around him when his back was turned, rubbing against him like a little cat, her eyes hot and half-lidded. Snape was completely undone for an entire week. He began to show some mettle into the second week, able to resist her advances, during the day at least, making her tend to cauldrons although she tempted him all day long. She'd do things like letting her robes fall open and being nude beneath them, or bending unnecessarily when he was behind her and finding some reason to bump into his loins. Hermione really was the devil herself. But, Snape would get his own back at night, hissing her offenses as he worked off his sexual frustration from the day.

Hermione loved it. He was so—vindictive. But so much in love with her.

But once they settled in, Snape was indeed a strong master who worked Hermione quite hard as an apprentice. She tried to use his treatment of her as grounds to cut him off sexually, but the Potions master wasn't having that.

"You came into this situation understanding it was my duty to teach you what you need to know. I must treat you as an apprentice, Hermione. You knew what to expect. You cannot and will not mix our master/apprentice relationship with our personal one. I won't accept that," he told her sharply. "Now, get in bed before I throw you in."

Hermione stood there for a moment, then bolted from his bedroom. She did have her own rooms after all. But Snape chased her, buck naked, caught her and slung the kicking witch over his shoulder, carrying her back to his bedroom, then kissing and caressing her into compliancy.

"Sometimes I think you're the devil," she sighed up at him as he pulled away from her mouth gently. His black eyes were soft as he looked down at his witch.

"I am," he said, kissing her again.

The following day, Hermione was carefully measuring out some ingredients in his lab, completely focused as she watched the scales. Snape crept in behind her, a small iron cauldron in each pale hand. He inched closer to her, just as she was tipping a bag of beetle eyes onto the scale. Smirking, he slammed the cauldrons together.

CLANG!

"Arrrrrrrrrrgh!"

Beetle eyes flew everywhere as a startled Hermione clutched her heart, spinning around furiously to see a rather calm Potions master standing behind her. His dark eyes scanned the counter and floor, then he looked at her.

Hermione wasn't allowed to yell at Snape because he was her master. But she was clearly angry.

Snape shook his head.

"A good Potions master cannot be caught off guard, Hermione. I want every single beetle eye picked up, cleaned and measured. If I find even one on the floor, you can count on a few extra hours of thoroughly aerating the stinkflowers I'm growing in the Herbology greenhouse."

Snape left the room.

"Bastard," Hermione breathed as she began to collect the spilled beetle eyes.

* * *

Only the first two years were rough for Hermione. When she entered her third year as an apprentice, Snape began to show her some respect and listen to her suggestions. It was very gratifying not to be treated like a peon in the labs. Now, she could decide what to work on herself without him overseeing and criticizing almost everything she did. To be honest, Snape had to really work at finding things to criticize about her work after her first year. She was a quick study and followed instructions well. But he found ways to toughen her up, even if he had to use a little magic here and there to make something fall and break, or a flame to go just a bit too high. It was dirty, but Hermione had to be tested constantly to make her strong and unflappable under fire.

The most frightening moments for Snape that third year was when he sent Hermione out on a weeklong excursion to collect fresh ingredients, such as Dragonsbane, Trollsbane and Manticore scales. These ingredients could only be harvested where the creatures dwelled and she had to go alone. This was a supreme test of a Potions master's abilities. One error and she'd be dead. When he informed her of the task, Hermione was very excited. Snape lashed out at her.

"Stop jumping about as if this were some—some field trip to the amusement park!" he hissed at her. "You are going to be facing dragons, trolls and manticores! Alone! You could be killed!"

For the first time, Hermione saw fear in the wizard's dark eyes as he glared at her.

"I won't be killed, Severus," she said softly, breaking the rule of addressing him as master when they were in work mode. "I'll come back. I promise."

Snape stared at her, torn between being her Potions master and her lover. He didn't want her to go, but she had to go.

That night, Snape made love to Hermione with quiet desperation. There were no moments of roughness or animal passion this time. Only tenderness and above all, Love. Hermione could feel the difference in his sex, in his kisses, embraces and caresses as he took her. When he was finished, he drew her into his arms, but didn't speak. She lay curled into him, listening to him breathe. Finally, she spoke.

"Severus?" she said hesitatingly.

"I'm going with you," he said softly.

Hermione frowned slightly.

"With me? Where?" she asked him, not connecting the statement with her upcoming excursion.

"To collect the ingredients," the wizard said, turning his face toward her now.

Hermione blinked at him, then smiled and kissed his nose.

"You can't come with me, Severus. I have to do it alone. It's required," she told him.

"No one would know, Hermione," Snape said.

"I'd know. What kind of Potions mistress would I be if I couldn't harvest ingredients on my own, Severus? You've always said you wouldn't coddle me because that would be a disservice. Why try and coddle me now?"

"Because—because I could lose you, Hermione," the wizard said, not wanting to imagine the ache of it.

"You could lose me anytime, Severus, or I could lose you. We can't let that fear control our actions, curtail our lives. I have to do this, and I have to do it alone. Accept it, and trust that you've taught me enough that I can do it."

"But, you've never had to apply . . ." Snape began, but Hermione brought a finger to his lips, quieting him.

"I'll do fine, Severus. Believe in me," she said softly.

Snape looked at her, his heart aching.

"I do believe in you," he breathed.

"Good. Now, let's go to sleep," Hermione said with a yawn, sliding closer to him. In a moment she was asleep. But it took her lover a long, long time to let sleep overtake him.

Of course, Hermione managed to collect all the ingredients. She was dirty and sooty, with ripped robes and her hair in tangles upon her return, but she survived and collected quite a bit of the precious ingredients. Her reward was her own Potions store, and of course a very tender, relieved Severus Snape.

* * *

It was summer and nearly the end of Hermione's third year, when Snape received a surprise visitor. Several visitors in fact.

"Hallo! Hallo! Professor Snape?" a voice called down the dungeon corridor.

Since it was summer and no students were about, the classroom and the lab was kept open. Snape and Hermione both looked up as the voice echoed in the corridor.

"Who is that?" Hermione asked as Snape covered the cauldron he was tending and cleaned his hands.

"I don't know," he growled, exiting the lab.

Hermione followed him.

As they walked up the corridor, they saw four robed people with hoods drawn over their heads, hiding their features. Both Severus and Hermione drew their wand. Who were these people?

"Professor Snape?" one hooded figure said.

"Yes. Who are you and why are you here?" Snape hissed at him.

"I—we needed to see you, sir," the wizard said.

"Lower your hoods," Snape demanded.

All four persons did as the dark wizard asked. Hermione's eyes widened in recognition as she looked on the handsome features of Antoine Vargas' apprentice. He looked hardened now, and tired. Hermione started as he turned his head to look at the others with him. He had an ugly burned patch on his cheek that stopped just beside his eye.

"I am Conan Moores, sir. I don't know if you remember me. I was Antoine Vargas' apprentice," the wizard said to the Potions master.

Snape just stared at him stonily. Conan gestured to the other three.

"These are also former apprentices, sir," he said, "we've come to you in hope of getting your assistance. You see, we left our masters. I left shortly after the meeting."

Here, Conan's dark eyes rested on Hermione.

"I couldn't deal with the fact that my master would try to kill another Potions master's apprentice. And—and—there were other things I could no longer stomach . . . "

Hermione could only imagine. Conan's hand reflexively touched the burn on his face.

"Master Vargas didn't take my leaving well, as you can see. I was lucky it wasn't my entire face."

Snape stood there, unmoved as Hermione studied all four young wizards. They were all very handsome. They would be, however, since they were former apprentices and the Potions masters all had a fine eye for man-flesh.

Conan looked a bit nervous at Snape's silence. He quickly continued.

"We've all been studying potions on our own, sir, following your example, teaching ourselves by experimentation. We're all quite skilled sir, but . . . but we were hoping that you would show us your technique for blending ingredients that normally do not . . . do well together."

"You mean explode," Snape said quietly.

"Yes, sir. We wish to become masters the way you did, sir. You are our inspiration."

Snape's dark eyes washed over the group.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Snape told them, turning and walking back toward his labs.

Hermione stared after him, then looked back at the crestfallen wizards. They had hoped beyond hope that he would help them.

"Wait here," Hermione said to them. "I'm going to talk to him."

Conan's brown eyes lit up.

"Do you think you can convince him to help us?" he asked Hermione hopefully.

Hermione looked up at him soberly.

"I don't know, Conan. But, I'll try," she said. "Just wait here."

"All right," the wizard said. He watched as Hermione walked up the corridor and turned into a room.

"Conan, we can still try to get in ourselves, without his help," another blonde hunk said.

"I know, Cyrus, but this way we'd be certain to get in. Not one of those masters has ever attempted to duplicate Snape's abilities. They're all cowards. If we can recreate what Snape did, they'll have to let us in. Otherwise, we don't stand a chance. They'll give us impossible tasks, I'm sure. This way, we'd have some control. He just has to help us."

* * *

Hermione entered the lab to find Snape standing over a cauldron, stirring it methodically. She walked up behind him.

"Severus," she started.

"No, Hermione. I will not help them," he said softly.

"But why, Severus? You hate the way the field of Potions is run. If you agree to help them, you could bind them to an oath not to continue the perversions of the other masters. You could have them take on apprentices according to their abilities, not their beauty. You could make them promise not to take advantage of them. Isn't that what you want, Severus?"

The Potions master didn't answer her, but kept stirring the simmering cauldron.

Hermione scowled.

"It's something else, isn't it?" Hermione asked him.

Snape didn't answer her, but it was something else. It was—jealousy. Every young wizard in that group was gorgeous, even Conan with that scar on his face. He didn't want them around Hermione. It was petty, but true.

"I won't help them, Hermione, and that's my final word on it," he said to the witch.

Hermione frowned at his back.

"Fine, if you won't help them, I will," she said.

Snape whirled on her.

"You're no Potions master," he snarled at the witch. "You don't have the authority . . ."

"I don't have to be a master. They don't have masters, remember? I've watched you work, seen how you've blended ingredients. Maybe I can reproduce your technique," she said stubbornly.

"And maybe you'll get yourself killed trying," Snape hissed at her.

"Maybe I will," Hermione said, "but I'm going to be a part of that group of Masters in another year, and I hate what they do, Severus. They're all posers. If we can get an influx of new masters, ones with morals and ethics, we can make positive advances. Renew the honor of our Art. That's worth the risk of getting killed in my book. At least I'm willing to do something."

Hermione began to walk toward the door, her chin held high.

"I won't let you use my lab," Snape called after her.

"Fine, we'll find some other place to work. They probably have labs of their own," the witch shot back, almost at the door now.

Snape faltered. This would be even worse than having the young men here. Hermione would be alone with them. At least here, he could keep an eye on them.

"Wait, Hermione. Very well. I'll help them," he said heavily.

The witch turned with a broad smile, then ran to him, embracing him tightly.

"I knew you would help them, Severus. You're wonderful. It will be worth it. You'll see," she gushed.

Snape rested his chin on top of her head, his eyes distant.

"Yes, I'll help them, witch, but only because of you," he said softly. "I hope I don't regret this."

Hermione pulled back from him and looked up at his face, which was rather drawn as he looked back at her.

"Regret it? Why would you regret it, Severus? This is something good for everyone," she said to him. "I don't understand why you aren't more . . ."

Suddenly she stopped speaking, noticing the pain in his eyes. Then she knew what it was.

"Oh, Severus, are you worried one of them might woo me away from you?" she asked him. Snape looked away from her, unable to answer. Hermione gave him a soft smile.

"Oh, Severus. I love you. Not one of those 'pretty boys' out there can hold a torch to you. Not one. You needn't worry about that at all. My interest is simply because of our Art. I have the wizard I want. I was meant for you," she said to him gently.

Snape looked down at her, reassured. Yes, she was his and would always be his. He really needed to get that firmly in his head after three years.

"I know that," he said gruffly, trying to pull himself together. He didn't like to show Hermione his weaknesses. But she couldn't help but see them. She was his main weakness after all.

"Of course you do," Hermione said soothingly, which irritated him.

"Let's go talk to the 'pretty boys," Snape snarked, "and if there's a dunderhead among them, out he goes."

He strode from the lab. Hermione covered his cauldron and slowly walked after him, smiling.

He didn't fool her one bit.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	55. A Question and an Answer

**Chapter 55 A Question and an Answer**

Snape sent an owl to Albus, asking his permission to house the four wizards at Hogwarts until the beginning of next term, explaining the situation to the old wizard. Albus sent him an affirmative reply immediately. The Headmaster was well aware of the practices of the Potions masters as a whole and felt this an opportunity to turn their dismal conduct around. The four wizards were to be housed in Slytherin house for the duration.

The names of the other three wizards were Cyrus Camfrey, Ignatius Hove, and Bedouin Brown. Snape took the opportunity to talk to them without Hermione when he showed them to Slytherin house. He instructed them to take seats in the common room.

The four wizards sat down and looked at Snape attentively as he scowled at them.

"There will be rules," Snape said to them, his eyes narrowed, "the main one being that my apprentice, Hermione Granger, is off limits. Do you understand me? None of you will make any advances toward her."

The wizards blinked up at him. Conan was the one who spoke.

"So, you maintain the kind of relationship with your apprentice as our masters did with us?" he asked Snape.

"Yes . . . no. Not precisely. Our involvement has nothing to do with her being my apprentice," he said tightly, uncomfortable with sharing such personal information.

"Sure it doesn't," Cyrus said, nudging Ignatius with his elbow.

Snape's face went black.

"I don't care what you think the circumstances surrounding our association is, Mr. Camfrey, but I warn each and every one of you, if you attempt to engage her in any way, you'd better as skilled in dueling as you are in brewing, because if you are not—I will kill you."

Snape looked so murderous, the four wizards swallowed.

"Professor," Conan said quickly, "Cyrus and Ignatius are gay. Bedouin and I go both ways . . . "

"I suggest you go one way if you hope to leave this castle with your jewels attached," Snape hissed.

"None of us have any designs on your apprentice, master Snape, I assure you," Conan said as the other handsome wizards nodded. "We are here only to advance our art. That is our only purpose, our only focus. None of us have been involved with anyone since taking this path. We are devoted."

Snape's black eyes shifted from each, almost perfect face.

"All right. We understand each other in that respect," he said curtly. "Now there is the matter of conditions. What I will require from each of you in return for my instruction . . ."

The wizards all scowled at Snape. Not him, too.

"Not that!" Snape snapped at them. "Despite how pretty you all are, you do absolutely nothing for me."

The wizards relaxed. Thank Merlin. They'd dealt with enough randy Potions masters for one lifetime.

"However, you will each give me an Unbreakable Vow that you will never take on an apprentice for your own gratification. That any apprentice you instruct will be accepted because he or she shows true promise. You will not claim any of their discoveries while they study with you. They will be allowed to take credit for everything they develop on their own. You will not demand monetary compensation from them at the end of instruction, since they will have assisted you over the course of four years. Quid pro quo. And you will require this vow of any and every apprentice you take on."

The wizards nodded soberly. Of course, none of them intended to perpetuate the deviant behavior of their former masters. Each and every one of them wished to restore honor and dignity to the art of Potions-making. Snape continued.

"Gentlemen, our art has been desecrated and I wish to restore it to its original glory. You four will be a new beginning. If you are not willing to follow a different path than the men you fled, your time here has been wasted, as has mine."

The four wizards each took the Unbreakable Vow, forever bound to act with dignity and respect concerning all things Potions.

* * *

The next month and a half was grueling for the four wizards, and for Hermione, who also wanted to learn Snape's technique for mixing volatile ingredients. He had kept that to himself, since it was a valuable skill. With it, he could brew original potions other masters could not. It would have come in handy when he left Hogwarts to strike out on his own. He would have made a very lucrative living.

Once again, the Greater Good had to be served, and sacrifices made. His techniques would become common knowledge over the years, but the art of Potions would once again be elevated to its proper place, the Potions masters judged by ability, skill and dedication, rather than power and lust.

Snape was a total bastard to the wizards, yelling and screaming at them. He even had a small, supple willow branch he carried with him in his lab, which he struck them with if they made a mistake. A mistake being an explosion, of course. He was truly the Potions master from hell. But he had to be. Learning this technique was dangerous and they all had to focus. Not wanting a painful lash was one way to accomplish that.

They worked with only the minutest portions of ingredients so they wouldn't kill themselves and each other. A flash in a cauldron was enough to have Snape rush over and apply a stinging slash to the offending wizard's arm or shoulder. He didn't strike Hermione, but yelled at her just the same, which was just as bad to the witch. Hermione always wanted to do well, and failure was something unacceptable. There was no way Snape could have whipped her physically worse than the way she whipped herself mentally whenever she exploded ingredients.

After an intense month, they all began to catch on, the secret being blending small amounts of the ingredients in increments until they had an inert base. Once that base was established, they could continually add the dangerous items in relative safety, as long as they carefully maintained the proper ratios. A drastic color change usually meant something had gone wrong and to flee the area. Any change of color, no matter how small was a warning sign that the base should be immediately removed, usually by Scourgifying it quickly.

A week before classes were to resume, Snape told the wizards it was time for them to go, that he had shown them all he could. They were to continue to practice and perfect the technique.

As they stood on the stairs outside of Hogwarts castle, the four wizards somberly shook Snape's hand.

"You will come to the next gathering of Masters, master Snape?" Conan asked him. "We plan to present ourselves."

Snape frowned at him. The Potions masters gathered several times a year. There was no real purpose to the meetings now. They used to be used to share important discoveries and advancements in the field, but now they were just examples of excess, food, drink and boasting the order of the day. Snape never participated in these revel-like proceedings.

"I'll be there," Hermione said with a smile. Snape scowled at her. She would be a full-fledged Potions mistress by then. Although the sexes were usually separated, she still could attend a gathering. Witches normally didn't, because they were treated so rudely. That was another thing she wanted to change, and there was no time like the present.

Conan gave her a beautiful smile as Snape snorted under his breath. The wizards had been as good as their word, hardly interacting with Hermione at all during their short time under the Potions master's instruction. She was just another student to them. Hermione knew Severus had something to do with it.

* * *

_"What did you say to them, Severus?" Hermione asked him one night as she lay curled in the crook of his arm. They hadn't made love. They were now in that comfortable place where they didn't have to physically engage to feel connected. Being in each other's presence was enough for them . . . well much of the time. The sex was still wonderful when they did engage. Still scorching. Still passionate. It would probably always be that way._

_"I know you said something to Conan and the other wizards. They barely look at me," she said to him._

_Snape didn't say anything, and Hermione bumped her head against his cheek to rouse him._

_"Stop that," he hissed at her._

_"What did you say to them?" Hermione demanded._

_"Why do you think I said anything to them, Hermione? It could be because of their orientation they don't pay you more attention," he said darkly, his eyes washing over her. "Do you want them to pay you more attention?"_

_Hermione frowned._

_"No, of course not. Maybe be more civil and communicative. I'd like to have conversations about what we're learning, you know, interact," she said to the wizard._

_"You can talk to me," he said sullenly, jealousy once again rising in his chest._

_Hermione stared at him as he stared up at the ceiling._

_"You're still jealous," she said softly._

_"I'll be glad when they're gone. And they will be shortly. They are all quite skilled. They only need to fine tune the technique, and they don't have to do it here," Snape responded, not answering her accusation._

_Hermione studied him for a moment, then shifted up and kissed his lips tenderly._

_"What was that for?" he asked her, frowning as she looked down at him._

_"Just because," she said softly, brushing an idle lock of lank hair from his pale face before settling back in the crook of his arm and snuggling closer. Eventually, the feeling of jealousy eased in the wizard's chest. Hermione loved him._

_Still, he'd be glad to see the wizards gone. Gay or not. Just looking at their perfect features every day was an annoyance. Snape was glad he had numerous chances to browbeat and strike them. It made him feel a hundred times better about this. He was still petty and covetous concerning Hermione, but it all worked out in the end._

_

* * *

_

"I suppose I will attend as well, if only to see those pompous bastards have a group coronary," Snape said, his eyes glittering at the thought of it. Not one, but four wizards entering the field without masters? There could be at least one death among them. Hopefully Vargas.

Now all four wizards beamed at him, perfect white teeth agleam and nearly blinding.

"Go on, get out of here," the wizard snarked at them.

Repeating goodbyes, the four would-be Potions masters strode across the grounds of Hogwarts and toward the gate. Hermione thought they looked like male models in some kind of Muggle commercial as they walked side by side, strong and strapping in their billowing robes.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Where Men are Men," she said under her breath, smirking a little, finding the fact that two of them were gay funny. Women wouldn't know that.

"What?" Snape asked her.

Hermione blinked up at him.

"Oh, nothing," she said with a little smile before she turned and walked back into the castle.

Feeling as if he'd missed something, Snape followed her in.

* * *

Hermione's fourth and final year as an apprentice passed quickly. She now handled all of Severus' brewing as he taught class. Her brewing techniques were excellent, gifted in fact, and she had discovered several ways of making certain potions stronger. She improved the quality of the healing elixir Poppy used on the students of Hogwarts. She also found a way to make Skele-Gro potion less painful and faster when mending bones. It involved the addition of Coca leaves and several accelerative binding agents. Luckily, Coca leaves weren't illegal in the wizarding world as a potion ingredient, but only a Potions master or mistress could purchase them.

Hermione stood in front of Snape's desk as he wrote his cramped, spiky signature on a piece of parchment, then handed it to her, his dark eyes glittering.

"There it is, Hermione. Your certification. You are now a full-fledged Potions mistress," the wizard purred at her. "No bells, no whistles, no confetti raining down. I'm afraid there isn't much fanfare connected with such an accomplishment with me as a master. The others usually have elaborate ceremonies and feasts for their new masters."

Hermione smiled as she read the parchment, then looked up at Snape.

"This is more than enough, Severus," she said to him. "I don't need bells and whistles. All I need to do is file this with the Ministry, then strike out on my own."

Snape felt his stomach clutch.

"On—on your own?" he repeated as she rolled up the parchment and stuck it into her robes pocket.

"Yes, on my own. With my share of what you so generously gave me of the basilisk profits, I can open my own apothecary shop. I have a location already picked out," she said to him, excitement in her eyes. "I'm going to provide only high quality hand-brewed potions, not that bottled dreck everyone else sells. I've been checking out the other apothecary shops for months. I know the niche I can fill. They will be more expensive, but they will be more effective as well. I'm also going to give classes in home brewing; teaching laypersons how to make simple potions for what ails you. Headache potions, potions for stomach upset, constipation. Simple brews that aren't dangerous to make."

Snape just stared at her. He hadn't thought about her leaving and striking out on her own. But, she was finished. She couldn't stay in the castle now. Still . . .

Snape got up from his desk and walked around it, facing Hermione.

'You're leaving me?" Snape asked her softly, feeling as if the world were bending around him, cutting off the very air he breathed.

"No, Severus, of course I'm not leaving you, but I can't stay here and I have to make use of what I've learned. I have to make a living. You can't take care of me any longer," she said gently.

"I would gladly take care of you for the rest of my days, Hermione," he responded.

Hermione's eyes glistened and she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

"I know, Severus, but I wouldn't be happy with that. I want to do things on my own. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to rent a flat and you can come see me whenever you like. We can go out to dinner, visit museums, do the kinds of things couples do."

Snape blinked at her. Didn't she understand it wouldn't be the same? For four years she had shared his bed, been there in the morning when he awoke, shared meals with him. For four years they had been together, lived together like husband and wife. Now he was supposed to "visit" whenever he liked? He didn't want to visit. He wanted her with him.

But it was clear she had already made her plans, and they still included him. But, not enough of him . . . no that wasn't true. There just wasn't enough of her. He swallowed.

"I—I never thought about this aspect of the end of your apprenticeship," he said thickly. "I'm—I'm used to you, Hermione. I've spent four years of my life with you—how—how can I do this? Be without you?"

Hermione sighed. She had known Severus wouldn't take this well, but she had to use her skills to make a living now. She wasn't really going anywhere. Just away from Hogwarts.

"You won't be without me, Severus," she said softly. "We're still going to be together. I love you. You know that. I don't have to be here every hour of the day. Besides, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Snape frowned.

"My heart is fond enough, Hermione," he replied. She could hear the anguish in his voice. "It cannot get any fonder. Your absence—your absence will only bring me pain."

"Then, come with me," she said, a slight quiver in her voice.. "You've been at Hogwarts for decades. Start a new life with me, as my husband."

Snape stared at Hermione in disbelief. Had she—had she just . . . proposed?

Hermione stared up at him, her eyes soft as she took his hand.

"What's my answer, Severus?" she breathed. "Will you marry me?"

Would he refuse? This felt so much like blackmail but it was the only answer Hermione could think of, the only feasible way that they could continue the way they were. She hoped he understood that.

Snape stood there, staring down at the young woman he loved, at the woman he would miss terribly if—no—when she left. There would be a hole inside him not even Hogwarts castle could fill. It wasn't blackmail. It was the right thing to do . . . the only thing to do to keep her with him. He was tired of Hogwarts anyway. He'd been there far too many years.

"My answer, Hermione Granger?" he said softly.

"Yes."

* * *

A/N: Ah, a reverse proposal. :) Thanks for reading.


	56. Making Wedding Plans

**Chapter 56 Making Wedding Plans**

"No, Severus, and I mean no. We have to save something for the wedding night," Hermione said, kissing him one final time, then exiting his bedroom for the night.

Snape stood in his boxers, staring after the witch. They had made arrangements to be married on the school grounds in two weeks, and Hermione was given permission to stay at Hogwarts until the ceremony. This seemed fine to Snape, until she got it into her head that they should remain celibate until the wedding night.

"Save something? What in the world does she mean 'save something?' How can you save sex?" the wizard thought, frowning after Hermione. "It isn't as if it runs out. We'd have plenty for the wedding night. Dear Merlin. Witches and their insane ideas."

Frustrated, Snape went to bed. Alone. In the very situation he had been trying to avoid. If he'd known his saying yes to Hermione's proposal would end up with him cut off for two weeks, he would have set some conditions on agreeing. Conditions like they'd maintain the status quo. But really, it wasn't just the sex. They didn't have sex as frequently as when they were new to each other, but he missed her presence, her warmth curled against his body, the way she made him feel whole and a part of someone else. When Hermione left his bed, she took all that with her. And he was so used to it now, he didn't understand how he had ever lived without her.

And this wasn't the worst of it. Word had gotten around to the female staff members, and when he would return from class in the evenings, he would hear Hermione and the witches cackling and murmuring in her rooms. When he'd knock and come in, they'd all go silent and look at him as if he were a juicy slab of meat they were about to season and roast. It made him damn uncomfortable as well as a bit nervous. He'd greet them and Hermione, and after an uncomfortable silence, flee to his own rooms. And the cackling and laughing would start again.

Pomona Sprout was with Hermione nearly every evening. Snape knew they were up to something, but he couldn't find out what. Hermione was taking no chances and scoured her rooms magically every day for detection and listening spells. She knew Severus well. Then she disappeared one evening, not coming in until after twelve midnight.

Snape was in his study, pacing and wondering where she was when she arrived and entered to take a look in on him, telling him she was out with Pomona.

"What are you witches up to?" he demanded. "All this secrecy is enough to drive a man mad."

Snape was in such a temper, Hermione threw him a bone.

"If you must know, we're planning our wedding night, Severus. It's going to be something very special," she said to him softly. "A surprise for you."

This calmed the Potions master as he looked at his bride-to-be longingly. The wedding night. When he'd finally be able to touch her again. And, oh, was he going to touch her. After all of this? He was going to 'touch' her all night long.

"Now, I'm going to bed, Severus. I'll see you in the morning."

Hermione walked up and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. It was maddening. Snape caught her gently around the waist before she pulled away completely.

"Severus, let me go," she said to him as he pressed his body against hers. His dark eyes were full of desire.

"A few kisses before you retire, Hermione. I'm starved for you," he said softly, his voice silken with need. "Give me some contact, witch. Don't be cruel. Don't punish me for accepting your proposal."

Hermione looked up at him, knowing that if they started snogging, most likely he would seduce her. She missed him as well. This forced separation was tantalizing, sort of like an extended kind of foreplay.

"You'd have me on my back naked in fifteen minutes, Severus," she told him.

The wizard made no attempt to deny this.

"A few kisses," he said again as Hermione began to pull away from him.

"No," she said firmly. "No kisses, Severus. Now let me go to bed."

"One kiss then, Hermione. One true kiss to carry me through the next week. That isn't too much to ask, is it? I miss you," he breathed.

Hermione's heart went out to him. Severus Snape was a strong, reserved man, but he was so in love with her, he'd throw all that strength and reserve out of the turret window in an attempt to reach her. He was weak for her, and they both knew it. She was equally weak for him most of the time, but she was trying to create something special for their wedding night. Put a new spark there. The separation would be good for them. Even one kiss could lead to another, and another and she'd be in his bed before she knew it.

"Severus, I don't think I'd be able to resist you if we start kissing," Hermione said. "I know you, and you know me—you know how to—how to break down my resolve. I really want our wedding night to be something special and beautiful. I want to wait because it will make when we come together feel like so much more. Do you understand? I'm not trying to purposely make you suffer. I miss you too. I'm used to having you beside me at night, being curled against you and waking up beside you in the morning. But it will only be for a few more days. Please, Severus, don't make this any harder for me. Don't make me feel guilty for wanting to create something special, something we'll remember for the rest of our lives."

Snape stared down at Hermione, then slowly released her.

"I don't mean to make you feel guilty," he said with a sigh.

He truly didn't want to make Hermione feel guilty, but gods, he still wanted her. Severus Snape was a man, and as one he was rather oblivious to the special significance a woman placed on her wedding day and night. It had to be perfect, different, memorable and romantic. A day to be cherished and never forgotten

For Snape, it was a day where Hermione would take his name, and he would take her for his mate for life. Of course, this meant something to him. That she would be bound to him forever. That was the ultimate purpose of marriage, to seal the deal. All of the accouterments that accompanied this act of legally binding himself to her just flew right over his head. He understood what she wanted, but he didn't find it necessary to be apart from her. The wedding night would be special just by virtue of their being married. It didn't matter if they had sex a week before or the day before they tied the knot. When he took her for the first time as her husband, it would be a pivotal point. Celibacy couldn't make that any better in his estimation. But again, he was a man, and just didn't understand these things.

"Then don't, Severus. It will be all worthwhile in the end, believe me. Wait until you see what we've—I've planned," she said with an excited smile. "It's really different."

Severus caught that little "we've," which probably meant every witch at Hogwarts had something to do with whatever scenario that was set up. Different? He wondered just how different their wedding night would be.

He'd have to wait and find out.

* * *

Two days before the wedding, Snape arrived in his rooms after class and noticed the door to Hermione's rooms opened. As usual, there was cackling going on.

He crept up to the door, but all the women were talking at once, and it was hard to make out exactly what they were saying. He made out the words "flowers," "puzzle' and of all things, "Peeves," before he was noticed by Hermione, who scowled at him.

"Severus! How long have you been standing there?"

The women all parted and glared at him, with the exception of Mrs. Granger, who had obviously been cackling along with the rest of them. She gave him a sympathetic smile and greeted him. Hermione had told her they had separated until the wedding. It had to be hard for him. Men were always left in the dark about these things.

"Hello, Severus," Jean said warmly. "Ready for your nuptials?"

"More than ready, Mrs. Granger," he replied rather darkly, eyeing the witches, who all tittered annoyingly.

Jean laughed and said, "You're going to have to call me something other than 'Mrs. Granger' now that you're going to be part of our family. How about Jean?"

Snape nodded. It was better than "mum."

"Severus, you're going to have to stop lurking about. You'll ruin the surprise," Hermione chided him. Snape's dark eyes shifted from Hermione to the witches, who all looked at him disapprovingly.

"I wasn't lurking. The door was open," he said a bit sullenly, "but I will leave you all to your cack—your business," he said, whirling with a dramatic billow of robes and stalking away, pulling the door behind him.

"I didn't know Severus was such a—a drama king," Pomona said to Hermione.

"He just misses me and feels left out," she said, looking toward the door a bit sadly.

"He'll get over that on the wedding night," Madam Hooch said.

Professor Sinistra chuckled, but Minerva's lips tightened at the comment. She was well aware of Hermione and Severus' intimate relationship, but she was still a bit prudish when it came to talking about sex.

Jean shook her head slightly.

"You've certainly come up with a creative—er—scenario. Do you think he'll like it?" she asked her daughter a bit doubtfully. "Most men don't want to work so hard on their wedding night."

"He'll be fine with it. He doesn't have a choice really, if he wants a wedding night, that is," Hermione responded a bit wickedly.

"Well, if you're sure, dear," Jean replied, still doubtful, but trusting her daughter's judgment.

Still, it was something very different. They'd definitely remember their wedding night for the rest of their lives.

* * *

The next day, Severus, Hermione, John, Jean and Albus all sat down to discuss the ceremony itself. For the first time Severus was finding out exactly what was going to happen. Well, almost exactly. They discussed the simple small ceremony that they'd have. Only Hermione's parents and staff would be in attendance. Hermione had contacted the Longbottoms, but Neville was still in South America. He had to have finished his apprenticeship. Maybe he was working on a project down there. Hermione would have liked him to attend. They corresponded frequently at first, then the letters began to dwindle. Now, every four months or so she'd receive an update about what he and Luna were doing. There seemed to be a lot of rain involved. Well, he was in the rain forest after all.

Severus didn't have a best man, unfortunately. John would be walking Hermione down the aisle and Albus would be performing the ceremony. Flitwick could have filled in, but Snape didn't want just anyone to stand beside him. If he had his choice, it would be someone who truly wanted to see them happy together, someone who cared. Not that Flitwick wasn't a fine wizard, but Snape would rather stand alone and receive his wife.

Hermione didn't have a maid of honor either. Like Severus, she didn't want anyone to stand in just to fill the spot. She'd have her family present. That was all she needed, really.

Albus would perform the ceremony, and then Hermione would depart while Severus stayed with John, Albus and the other males, enjoying a few libations and food. .

"Depart? Depart where?" Snape demanded, frowning at his fiancée. "We are to leave together."

Hermione shook her head.

"I have to get prepared for you, Severus," she said, blushing a little in front of her dad, who lifted an eyebrow at her. It was too late to be embarrassed now. It wasn't as if he wasn't aware that she had an intimate relationship with her future husband already. "I'll be waiting for you."

'Oh," he said, sitting back. Hm. He wondered what kind of preparations she was going to make. He hoped it wasn't anything that would take up too much time. He wanted to get at Hermione as soon as possible after the wedding.

"When I send the 'all clear,' Albus will deliver you to your destination," Hermione informed him.

"Destination?" Snape repeated.

"I've rented a honeymoon cottage," Hermione said, "but that's all I'm telling you."

"Oh," Snape said again. A honeymoon cottage sounded quite nice. He imagined it was situated someplace serene and peaceful, far off the beaten path. That was good. No one would be able to hear her cries of passion. The wizard smirked a little.

He couldn't wait to slip that ring on her finger.

* * *

Albus was sitting in his office when a tapping noise started on one of his office windows. He looked over, and saw a brightly colored bird on the sill, cocking its head and looking in at him. Fawkes trilled a welcome from his perch as Albus rose and let the bird in. It flew to his desk and held out its leg. A message was attached to it.

"Oh, thank you," Albus said to the bird, which made a strange clicking noise in acknowledgement. As soon as the wizard removed the message, it was out the window again, winging away.

Albus sat down and unrolled the message, reading it, then smiling broadly.

"Excellent!" he said out loud, then walked to the Floo, threw in some powder and spoke to Severus.

It seemed the "best man" problem had been solved..

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	57. The Moment Arrives

Chapter 57 The Moment Arrives

After speaking with Albus, Snape walked to the entrance to Hermione's quarters and opened it. Hermione was there, sitting alone at the table, no cackling witches around her. She was staring at a magazine and sighing wistfully.

"Alone tonight?" Snape asked her, walking up to the table and looking down at what she was reading. It was a book of bridal gowns. She was looking at one beaded, long-sleeved bridal gown made of snow-white silk, with a sheer beaded veil and a long gorgeous train.

"Isn't that beautiful?" she sighed.

Snape studied it.

"Yes, it is," he agreed softly. "Lovely."

Hermione fell silent. She would be wearing a nice blue dress to the ceremony tomorrow. She couldn't wear white because she felt white was for virgins. It stood for purity, and after four years of being Severus Snape's lover, she certainly wasn't pure. There'd be no lovely bridal gown for her. No one could convince her otherwise.

"Anyone can wear white nowadays, Hermione," her mother told her. But Hermione felt it would be wrong to do so, would send the wrong message. White was for witches who saved themselves for marriage.  
She didn't take into consideration that she was a witch who saved the entire wizarding world, and that was far more impressive than abstaining from sex.

Snape's dark eyes washed over her, and he decided not to tell her what he came to tell her. She'd find out tomorrow.

Hermione blinked down at the beautiful dress, then let out a sigh and looked up at Severus.

"Was there a reason you came to see me?" she asked him. He could hear the sadness in her voice. Not a lot of sadness. No one else would have noticed it, but he noticed everything about Hermione.

"Just to say good night," he said softly. "This is your last night as a Granger, you know."

Hermione gave him a little smile.

"Yes, it is," she said softly.

Snape kissed her on the mouth gently, then looked at the magazine.

"May I borrow this?" Snape asked her.

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Why?" she asked him.

"I assume there are grooms in there as well," he stated, picking up the magazine and flipping through it, stopping on a page with a top-hatted, smiling man in a tuxedo with tails. "I simply want to see what they're wearing these days."

"Oh," Hermione replied. "Yes, you can borrow it. Keep it if you like. I can't do anything with it."

Well it made an odd sense he was interested. He was getting married after all. Snape tucked the magazine under his arm and looked at Hermione.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her again.

Hermione's eyes glistened a little.

"I just think it's last minute jitters. I wish Neville could be here . . . I wish I could wear white . . . I wish . . ."

"Shhhh!" Severus said softly, drawing her out of the chair, embracing her and stroking her hair.

"Every woman wants the perfect wedding, Hermione, but I tell you this, my love. That our wedding will be perfect, and not because of who's there or the dress you wear, it will be perfect, Hermione Granger, because you are the bride. Nothing outshines you, nothing diminishes you. You will be the perfect bride. My bride," Snape said, his dark eyes sober as he looked down at her. Hermione held him tighter.

"I wish it were our wedding night, Severus. I could use your comfort," Hermione said against his chest.

This would be the perfect opportunity to seduce Hermione. It was easy to see she was vulnerable, and he did want to offer her comfort—but she had worked so hard to get them to this point. It was only one more day after all, and he didn't want to ruin it for her.

"Tomorrow will be here soon enough, Hermione, and I will give you all the comfort you can stand," he said with a hint of a growl.

Hermione looked up at him and smiled at the growl. His little display of lustfulness was just what the healer ordered. He was right. None of those things she pined about really mattered. All that mattered were they were being married tomorrow and would spend the rest of their lives together.

"You're incorrigible," she said to him, giving him one more small kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow, Severus."

"I will be standing at the altar waiting, Hermione," he said softly, then quickly exited the room. Hermione stood there for a moment, then turned in. She had a big day tomorrow.

Snape returned to his study and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and opened the magazine, flipping through the pages until he found the gown Hermione had been looking at. It showed the bride in the gown from all sides and angles.

Snape studied it, his brow furrowed.

* * *

The next morning Hermione was hustled out of her rooms through the private entrance to a small furnished tent on the grounds, where she would be dressed. Her mother, Pomona, Minerva and Sinistra hurried her along, looking back from time to time as if they suspected Snape were trailing them, Disillusioned.

A white bower laced with blue roses had been set up, Albus' white podium standing before it. A few chairs were set up in rows. Not many. About twenty. It was a Saturday and this section of the grounds had been deemed off-limits to students, but a number of them stood in the distance straining to see Snape getting married. He was mellower in this timeline, but he still was a rather hard wizard to his students. The students wanted to see if Hermione would really go through with it, or make an escape while she still could. No one would blame her.

However, there were four students present, all members of a musical quartet which would play the wedding march. They stood a little distance on the right of the podium. A small table of libations and finger foods was set up on the left, covered in a blue tablecloth trimmed with white roses.

Obviously, no one consulted Snape concerning the décor.

The staff arrived, noisily taking their seats. John Granger arrived with Albus and both watched as Snape billowed across the landscape alone, dressed in his best dress robes, his hair silken as he hurried toward them. Five more people made their way across the grounds.

"Who is that?" Filch said from his seat. He understood only staff and immediate family would be in attendance. He stood up arthritically.

"Wedding crashers! I'll get them Snape!" the squib declared, starting to hobble toward the approaching group.

"Ah, no, Argus. It's fine. They are guests. Some are unexpected, but welcome."

Filch muttered under his breath about last minute changes and how was he to protect the castle grounds with just anyone being allowed in as he sat down again.

As the group drew closer, it was revealed that the guests were Alice and Frank Longbottom, Luna and her father, and Neville, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo, a white carnation in his lapel.

Everyone welcomed them and Luna, her dad and Neville's parents took a seat as Neville walked up to Snape. He was tall and tanned now from living in the Amazon, but his eyes were as honest and guileless as every as he walked up to professor Snape and offered the wizard his hand with confidence.

"Congratulations, professor Snape," Neville said to the wizard.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom," Snape replied. The lad had grown quite a bit. He was definitely a man now.

"Sir, this might be a bit presumptuous, but the Headmaster owled my parents and said you don't have a best man. They told me this morning when I arrived. Professor, I'd be honored to stand with you when you marry Hermione. I still remember when I found out about how she felt about you. She loved you even then. She's very close to me, sir, and I want to be a part of her big day, to show her I support her—and you, sir. May I be your best man?"

Snape glanced over at Albus, who suddenly found something very interesting on the ground to look at, then back at Neville. Yes, Neville did care about Hermione, even risked his life to help her find the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, and he made a long trip by Apparition to get back here in time. Apparition over such a long distance was quite dangerous in itself, yet both he and Luna braved it so they wouldn't miss Hermione's wedding. How much more dedication could he show the witch? Yes, Neville was more than suitable to stand by him. He loved Hermione in his way, and wanted to see her happy.

"I would be honored to have you stand by me, Mr. Longbottom. But, I must inform you, however, that she doesn't know you are here. Albus received your message last night and informed me, but—I did not get a chance to tell her," Snape told him.

Actually, at the last minute Snape decided not to tell her Neville would be at the wedding. He wanted to have a surprise or two of his own. He knew she'd be overjoyed to see him and it would make their wedding more wonderful that he served as best man.

"That's great! It'll be a surprise," Neville said with a broad smile. "I'd better lay low so she doesn't see me."

Snape made a face as he looked at the tightly closed tent.

"No need to worry about that, Mr. Longbottom. My future wife is as well-guarded as Gringotts. She won't step foot out of that tent until the wedding march begins," Snape responded.

In the tent, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. She looked very nice, with a garland of blue roses around her curly brown hair, matching blue earrings, her blue silk dress and blue pumps. Her bouquet was made of blue and white roses. Her wand rested among them. She wore a bit of make-up but not too much. As she studied herself, she knew she looked nice . . . but not beautiful.

"You look lovely, Hermione," Jean said to her daughter, sensing a bit of sadness radiating off of her. "Severus is going to be so pleased."

Hell, Hermione could come out wearing a burlap sack and Snape would be pleased.

Hermione didn't respond. Suddenly someone attempted to part the tent fabric and enter. All the witches shrieked as if it were Severus. John Granger winced.

"Oh, we thought you were Severus," Minerva said apologetically.

"He has better sense than to try and get in here," John replied. "I was afraid myself, and I'm supposed to walk my daughter down the aisle."

His brown eyes turned on Hermione, who was staring back at him soberly.

"You look lovely, Hermione," he said to her, his eyes full of love.

Hermione suddenly walked into his embrace, longing for the comfort her father's arms always gave her. John Granger hugged her tenderly and kissed her forehead. He looked down at her.

"Today's the day I lose my little girl," he said to Hermione, whose eyes were glistening.

"You're not losing me, dad," she replied softly, "I'm just getting married, not leaving the face of the planet."

"Yes, I know, but you won't be a Granger any longer. You'll be a Snape. You'll be his responsibility now," John replied.

Hermione scowled.

"I'll be my own responsibility," she snapped.

Jean covered her mouth with her hand. John had made a boo-boo. Hermione was far too independent to say something like that to without some repercussions.

"Kitten, you know what I meant," her father said apologetically.

Hermione sighed.

"Yes, I know, dad. It's just nerves, I guess."

Suddenly, strains of the quartet warming up sounded.

"We'd better go," Jean said, kissing both John and Hermione as she exited the tent. Minerva, Pomona, Sinistra and Hooch followed, wishing Hermione the best as they exited.

John slipped his arm through his daughter's arm and took a deep breath as the wedding march began.

"It's you and me, kitten," he said with a reassuring pat on her arm. "Let's go."

And they stepped through the tent opening and onto the grounds.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	58. The Wedding and the Wall

**Chapter 58 The Wedding and the Wall**

* * *

CLICK HERE FOR STREAMING INTERACTIVE MUSIC:  
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When Hermione and her father first emerged from the tent, Hermione's eyes were cast downward. She felt nervous and out of sorts as the quartet played the wedding march and she and her father took the first measured steps.

"Kitten, look," she heard her father say, and she raised her eyes, first seeing smiling staff and family members all looking at her, then she looked toward the altar and saw Severus standing there, looking at her soberly . . . and next to him . . .

She stopped walking for a moment.

"Neville," she breathed, her face lighting up as he gave her a little wave. "You came. Oh, you came."

Suddenly Snape stepped forward, drawing his wand and startling those around him.

He whirled his wand over his head in a wide circular motion and threw the point of it toward Hermione.

"Decorus Angelus!" he breathed, firing a stream of white sparkling light at the witch as everyone gasped.

The light bent upward just before reaching her, then arced over the witch, pouring over her body like a beautiful waterfall of tiny stars and rippling out behind her. Hermione broke free of her father and held out her arms as the light whirled around her, the blue of her dress fading, the flowers in her hair melting over her face, gauzy and sheer, as silk, white silk fell around her body, the tiny stars adhering to it, beading the fabric as it flowed outward behind her in a beautiful, long white train.

The sparkling faded, and Hermione stood there, looking down at herself. She was adorned in an exact replica of the wedding gown she had seen in the bridal magazine. It was perfect in every detail, and she looked and felt—beautiful.

She looked at Severus who stood there, looking back at her, a slight smirk on his face as everyone stared at both of them.

"Oh, Severus . . ." Hermione said, tears in her eyes.

"Your love is pure, Hermione Granger," the wizard said. "The purest, most precious gift I have ever experienced. You are my angel. You delivered me out of the very jaws of hell, and as you know . . . all angels wear white."

Tears began to flow down Hermione's cheeks as everyone ooh'd, aah'd, or swooned at Snape's very public declaration of his love of Hermione. John Granger was also moved, and wiped at his eyes for a moment, before taking Hermione's arm again and walking toward Severus.

Neville watched Snape dress Hermione in the most beautiful wedding gown he'd ever seen, and heard him say the most romantic thing he'd ever heard from a wizard, and he knew at that moment, Hermione had chosen the right wizard and he sincerely wished them every happiness.

Neville continued to watch as John Granger placed Hermione's hand into Snape's, then patted the wizard on his back and join Hermione's mother in the front row. He saw how Snape looked down at her, how his eyes glittered, and her eyes shined. The love between them was so easy to see as they reluctantly turned from each other and toward Albus.

Neville barely heard the ceremony as he cut his eyes toward Luna, who smiled at him before she jerked her head, signaling him to pay attention to the service. Every thing seemed to move slowly. All he could see was Hermione's happy smile and Snape's somber expression as they took their vows, commitment in their eyes as they spoke the words that would join them together in the sight of men and gods. Then Snape looked at him, his brow furrowing slightly and every returned to normal as Neville fumbled to hand him the rings. They were simple gold bands. On the inside of each ring, however, was etched one simple word.

FOREVER.

Then Neville watched as Snape carefully and reverently lifted Hermione's veil, gently folding it back, revealing her face. It was radiant. She was the most beautiful witch in the world, and with this kiss, she would be his forever more.

Neville watched, his heart full of joy for his friend as she and Snape kissed. It was a kiss proper for a wedding, just long enough, close enough to show there were true feelings there, if anyone had their doubts. Neville didn't feel his stomach turn once.

Little cries of "ew" drifted across the grounds from the direction of the watching students as Snape and Hermione shared their first kiss as man and wife and the audience applauded, congratulating them. And before Severus could release Hermione, she was descended on by the witches and whisked away, her beautiful train trailing behind her. He could still taste her lips.

Neville blinked after the departing witches and Hermione as they hurried across the grounds, Snape still standing at the altar staring after them as Albus closed the ceremony book. He walked around the podium as John Granger walked up to his new son-in-law. The Muggle looked after the small dots on the horizon, then back at Snape.

"Welcome to the world of marriage, Snape," he said dryly as the Potions master watched Hermione disappear.

"The first line of defense is . . ." John said, catching Snape by the shoulders and walking him to the libations table. Albus followed.

John set up three shot glasses, grabbed a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey, opened it and poured three drinks. He handed a shot to Snape, a shot to Albus then lifted his own glass in salutations to the newest addition to the flock of married males. Albus lifted his as well.

", , , to have a drink," he concluded, throwing it back. Albus and Snape followed suit, the Potions master rasping a bit as John Granger set up another round.

* * *

Hermione looked around the one room cottage with a smile as she experimentally bounced on the bed to check for firmness. A small owl perched on the headboard looked at her quizzically, turning its head nearly upside down as it watched her.

There weren't any roses in here. Hermione finally realized that she hadn't taken into consideration Severus' dislike of them. But she couldn't do anything about the roses outside. Pomona, her mother and the other witches were gone, and it was just her here. The roses would have to stay.

She was dressed in a sheer white nightie and thong that left little to the imagination. Originally it had been Slytherin green, but because Severus made that very sweet declaration that she was his angel, in front of everyone, no less, she decided to keep to the white theme.

She shuffled her bare feet through the thick blue shag carpet, wriggling her toes, then examined the little kitchen against the far wall, and checked the cooler. There was wine, chicken, salad and fruit. Very light fare, but that was all they needed for tonight. A fire crackled in the fireplace, magically fed so it wouldn't go out. She adjusted the silverware on the small intimate dining table for two and eyed the candles. She'd wait to light them. It might take a while for Severus to get here.

She then found a classical music station on the Wizarding Wireless that was sitting on the nightstand by the bed, then looked at the sunken tub in the middle of the floor. She decided to fill it and keep it magically warm for Severus when he made it here.

He might want a nice warm bath afterward, provided he decided to play her game. He might not and just summon her. She'd be disappointed if he did. It was the ultimate Knight in Shining Armor fantasy, with her as the reward. She hoped Albus remembered to tell him everything. She opened a window and addressed the little owl.

"You can go, now," she said to the bird. "Tell Albus its all right for Severus to come now."

The little owl let out a hoot of happiness and zoomed out of the window. She seemed to remember another excitable little owl, but not distinctly. Its name was Pigwooten, Pigwatten . . . no . . . Pigwidgeon.

* * *

Snape, John and Albus were quite drunk by the time the little owl arrived, circling Albus' head excitedly.

"That's the biggest bloody mosquito I've ever seen," John Granger slurred, then he slapped Snape on the back. The Potions master leaned forward from the impact, his eyes red.

"It's an owl, John," he said thickly.

Albus blinked.

"An owl? Oh, my!"

He reached into his robes pocket and withdrew two vials. He handed one to Severus.

"Sober-up potion," he said to Severus. "You have to drink it. Hermione wants me—er—you."

Both Albus and Snape drank down the potions, sobering immediately. John was still drunk. Potions didn't work quite as well on Muggles for some reason.

"I have to go now, John," Snape said to his father-in-law, whose head was nodding as he fought sleep. He was sitting in a folding chair and leaning dangerously to the side.

"'Bye," John said drunkenly, his chin hitting his chest. Snape looked at him worriedly. It wasn't seemly to leave him sitting on Hogwarts grounds drunk and by himself.

"Oh, he'll be fine. Mr. Granger and his wife are spending the night at the castle. I'll bring him to his rooms myself. Now, we have to go. Take my arm," Albus instructed.

Taking one more dubious look at John, Snape did as Albus asked.

They Apparated.

When they finally reached their destination, a loud crack of thunder announcing their arrival, they were on the rise of a hill, looking down into a pristine valley, or what should have been a pristine valley. But something was there that didn't belong.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at the blue and white and green structure below him. It was a maze. A huge maze apparently made out of rose bushes. It was almost as large as the one used in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"That, Severus, is where your wife is," Albus said, shaking his head slowly.

Snape blinked, then his face screwed up as he studied the fragrant living puzzle. Roses. He hated bloody roses.

"This had better be a joke," he growled.

* * *

A/N: Short chappie, I know. But I'm a little tired. Hope you enjoyed it, despite its length. Thanks for reading.


	59. Severus' Decision

**Chapter 59 Severus' Decision**

"It is no joke, Severus, I assure you," the old wizard said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pink envelope. "I am supposed to give this to you, and wait to see if you decide to navigate the maze or not. If you do, I have further instructions and information for you."

Snape snatched the envelope from Albus, not meaning to, but feeling very angry about this situation. Had Hermione gone mad?

He tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. He read it.

_My Dearest Husband,_

_How strange it sounds to address you as my husband, especially since we have not yet tied the knot. But since you are reading this, I assume we've crossed that drawbridge and now belong to each other completely._

_No doubt you've discovered my surprise. I imagine you are angry or at least shocked by the maze. You probably think it insane or at least, juvenile for me to have done something like this._

_But, before you read any further, I need to let you know that you need simply fire a red flare into the sky, and the maze will disappear. You can come to me and I will receive you without disappointment or reservation. You have a choice in this. You will always have a choice in anything that concerns us, Severus. I love you._

_The idea of the maze came to me for two reasons. The first is entirely selfish, the acting out of a fantasy, one I imagine many women have but don't have the means to carry out. But, I am a witch and have options many do not. The thought of you navigating this maze, willing to face a number of trials in order to reach me is terribly romantic. The idea of it makes me feel special, although you've shown me time and time again, I am special to you. It would be as if you are my knight, and I am your damsel. A damsel you would go through hell and high water to reach. As I write this, I realize how silly it all sounds, but it excites me just the same._

_The second reason is that I remembered you telling me about how you advised Harry Potter when he was a champion of the Triwizard Tournament, especially concerning the maze. You sounded so wistful as you spoke of it, saying that you believed you could have navigated the maze quicker and with more dexterity than Harry did. I felt you would have liked to face the challenge yourself. I believe it is in you to face challenges. It's a part of you, like breathing or your heart beating._

_Severus, when we changed the destiny of the world, we changed ourselves. In the alternate timeline, we would have been tried by the fire. Our lives have been calmer, more peaceful, without much challenge or excitement, and thank Merlin, without much pain. I am grateful for that part, especially because if the other timeline had continued, I wouldn't have found you. Still, when the timelines merged, I was no longer satisfied with the status quo. There was a hunger inside me to do something meaningful, something that would test me beyond academic limits. And this was what led me to the Chamber of Secrets, where I faced death head on. And when you entered the Chambers, you too, charged into the fray knowing it could mean your death as well. We came close to losing each other, but did not. I like to think it is because we were destined to be together. I felt such a sense of accomplishment and worth that night. As if I'd done something meaningful, something more fulfilling than making excellent marks._

_I often think about the man you would have become if I had not returned to your past. Every day I thank whatever gods exist that the fate that would have been yours was thwarted. But I also wonder if you feel the tameness of our existence the way I do._

If that is the case, Severus, here is an opportunity to test your mettle. This maze is not just a construct to fulfill a fantasy for me, but to provide an exciting experience for you as well, something you will remember in the years to come. We're embarking on a new life, one that will have challenges despite how perfect we seem to be for each other. Nothing is perfect, and we'd be fools to believe our lives will be so.

_If you have felt the sense of discontent I have, I want you to have your own moment of challenge and adventure. I want to be here waiting if and when you emerge victorious. But, you have a choice, my husband, my love. If I've misread you and felt something in you that wasn't there, I apologize. If I've overstepped my bounds in wanting to fulfill a silly fantasy that you want no part of, I also apologize. The maze wasn't created to thwart you tonight, but to fulfill you. Whatever you decide to do, Severus, I'll be waiting here with arms wide open, ready to accept you and begin the next chapter of our life together. _

_If you accept the challenge, fire a green spark over the maze. I will see it and know you are the Knight facing trials to acquire me as your reward. If you decline, fire a red spark over the maze. I will see it and know you are the wizard I love coming to claim the woman you married. The maze will disappear and I will be waiting for you in the cottage. Gods, I've missed you._

_Love,_

_Mrs. Hermione Jean Snape_

* * *

Snape stared down at the letter, then looked up at the maze again, curiosity in his eyes. What was in there besides the blasted roses? What kind of challenges had his wife placed there?

So, this was Hermione's fantasy, that he play knight, fight his way through whatever obstacles that peppered the maze, get through and then flip her heels in the air in victory.

Actually, that didn't sound too bad.

Albus watched Severus with a slight smile. For years the old wizard had felt a sense of the Potions master's discontent. It wasn't anything glaring, just a feeling that radiated from the man, as if he were meant to be something more than a Potions master, not that being a Potions master wasn't an accomplishment in itself, particularly the way Snape earned his place in their ranks. Albus' blue eyes swept over the maze again. Hell, if he were seventy-five years younger, he might have taken a stab at it. The premise was fascinating.

"What is in there, Headmaster?" Snape asked Albus, not taking his eyes off the rows of blue white flowers that bent and turned at right and left angles.

"I'm afraid I have strict instructions not to give you any information until you fire either a green or red spark over the maze, Severus. It is, I believe, your wife's way of being sure you are committed to it at face value and not tantalized into participating."

Snape frowned.

The little minx. She was already tempting him on several levels. Traversing this maze for Hermione was a part of a fantasy she had. What wizard didn't want to fulfill his witch's fantasy? How grateful would she be if he did it? A grateful Hermione was a very hot Hermione between the sheets, against the wall, on the floor, in the shower . . .

Then, there was the "machismo" factor. Was he man enough to make it through? Possibly, it was just a simple maze with no challenge other than finding his way to the cottage, but by the tone of Hermione's letter, he suspected there was much more between the rows. Snape had to admit, he was intrigued.

He pulled his wand from his sleeve, pointed it over the maze and fired a spark. The green light arched over the structure, then exploded, brightening the darkening sky. From the window, Hermione saw it and let out an excited squeal. She jumped about, clapping her hands in delight. Her husband had accepted the challenge!

* * *

"Good show," Albus said with a smile, pulling out a rolled parchment and opening it. "I must say I envy you, Severus. This looks as if it will be great fun."

Albus scanned the parchment.

"The maze contains obstacles and aids provided by every staff member at Hogwarts. Some things will help, and some things will hinder as you attempt to find the cottage. None of the challenges are deadly, per se, but you could possibly be injured if you aren't on your toes."

Snape nodded, still very intrigued as he looked down on the maze, which was lighting up now, torches flaring up as the sky darkened.

"There will be objects in the maze that you should take when you come upon them. You will have to figure out how to use them to help you. A large pouch will be hanging on the left of the entryway, once you enter the maze. You are to use it to carry the objects."

Snape began to unbutton his dress robes. He didn't want to ruin them. He continued listening.

"The maze is cheat proof. If you try to blast your way through the hedges, the maze will reconfigure itself," Albus said, then looked up at him.

"I don't think you'd want to be in the midst of it when that happens," he added, then looked back down at it. "It says here that the maze has a number of ways to protect itself as well. I think you'd better focus on navigating it as is."

Snape nodded, conjuring a small leather tie, and using it to tie his hair back into a ponytail. He was glad he opted to wear boots to the wedding. They had better traction than dress shoes.

"You can leave the maze at any time by firing 'The Red Flare of Failure.' The maze will disappear, revealing the cottage."

"The red flare of what?" Snape repeated, scowling.

"The Red Flare of Failure," Albus said with a smirk.

"She won't be seeing that," Snape groused as he glared down at the maze in challenge. Roses and obstacles be damned. He'd make it through. Red flare of failure, indeed. He handed Albus his robes determinedly, and tucked his wand securely in the waistband of his black trousers. He drew in a deep breath.

"Well, I'm off to claim my damsel, Headmaster," he said.

"Good luck, my boy," Albus replied, smiling as the wizard made his way down the hill toward the maze and his prize.

"Oh, to be young again," Albus said to himself wistfully. "There was a time I would have gladly navigated a hundred mazes for Gellert."

The old wizard Apparated, his heart still heavy after all these years.

* * *

Torches were set up strategically along the outside wall of the maze. Snape eyed it, then walked along the perimeter, looking for a way in, his nose wrinkled from the nearly overpowering scent of blue and white roses. Then he stopped, pulled out his wand and pointed at the wall before him. He wanted to see if what Albus told him were true.

"Reducto!" he cried, blasting the wall with his usual rose-destroying spell.

The wall before him was blasted open, but only for a moment as it quickly filled in. There was a rumbling thunder inside as the maze reconfigured its rows, changing the path that led to Hermione's cottage. Suddenly, long, gnarled vines shot out of the foliage, trying to wrap around Snape and drag him in. The wizard struggled, kicking and flailing at the vines, trying to avoid them. He backed up but they slithered forward.

"Sectumsempra!" the Potions master cried, slashing broadly. There was a high-pitched squeal as some of the vines were severed, thick black goo dripping out of the ends. The vines quickly retracted into the hedge. His chest heaving, Snape looked at the still coiling vines. They reminded him of snakes as they twisted in apparent agony.

"Devil's Snare among the roses," he thought.

Well, he wouldn't be blasting his way through the hedge, that was for sure. That had to be one of Pomona's additions. He wondered what the other teachers had added. He began to walk again, looking for a way in. After about two minutes, he found an opening.

He dipped his head into the passageway, his wand drawn. There could be something lurking just inside, ready to grab him. No, there wasn't. Only long rows of hedges lined with torches fading into the distance.

He looked at the left wall. There was a pouch hanging on a hook, just as Albus said. Snape removed it, opened it and cautiously stuck his hand inside to measure the depth. Although the pouch itself wasn't that large, Snape stuck his arm in up to his shoulder. It was deeper and larger inside than it appeared. Flitwick probably provided this item.

Snape slipped the pouch's long strap over his head and began to cautiously walk up the long row, his black eyes peering ahead and wand drawn. Occasionally, he looked down at the ground, checking for items. As he walked, he noticed what looked like a branch sticking out of the foliage. It wasn't part of the hedge, but looked as if it were purposely placed there.

Snape stopped in front of it, tucking his wand into his waist again. The stick was Y-shaped, the single branch extending outward. He pulled the branch out of the hedge and examined it. It was rather knobbly. Was it a magical object, or just a branch that got mixed into the maze somehow? He turned it over in his hands. There seemed nothing special about it. As he manipulated it, there was a point where he held the dual ends in both hands.

Suddenly, he was yanked forward. Snape dropped the stick immediately, staring down at it, cocking his head. Slowly he bent and picked it up with one hand, once again studying it. Experimentally, he gripped the other part of the V end. Again, it pulled him forward, but not so roughly this time. Apparently, the first time it was just trying to get his attention. Snape released one branch and nothing happened.

Hm.

Snape grasped both ends of the branch. It began to pull him forward, as if guiding him. Suddenly, it turned sharply left. Snape looked to see an opening in the hedge. The branch pulled toward it. It was a divining rod, only it didn't seek out water. Snape bet one Galleon to ten, that this rod was attracted to only one thing.

His wife.

So, he had a way to navigate the maze. This must have come from either Trelawney or Firenze, a centaur Albus had hired under the Affirmative Action Program for Intelligent Magical Creatures. Both teachers taught Divination, Firenze handling the older students. Firenze was very special. He was the only centaur in existence that was a wizard. And he had a very useful Animagus form. He could transform into a complete human being. Definitely the best of both worlds.

Snape had a feeling it was Firenze who provided the divining rod. Sybil didn't like him because—well, he resisted her advances, then took up with Hermione. In fact, Severus suspected that most likely, the witches placed things in the maze to thwart him, and the wizards items to help him . . . the exception probably being Hagrid. The gods only knew what creatures the half-giant had added. Well, he'd find out.

Snape allowed the divining rod to draw him deeper into the maze, following the twists and turns slowly, and looking about for objects and obstacles. A small motion caught his eye on the floor of the maze. It was a small black bag, closed by a drawstring. It was moving slightly.

Cautiously, he picked the bag up and opened it, holding it close to a torch to see what was inside. A number of small insects poured out, climbing over his hands, but they didn't bite. It seemed they wanted to escape. Snape pulled the drawstring closed and studied the little bugs. They were woodlice, tiny creatures that fed on wood. Definitely an addition from Hagrid.

Snape shook them off his hands, then put the squirming bag of bugs into his pouch. They had to be there for a reason. He continued through the maze. He found a dull sword in a scabbard.

"This blade couldn't slice through butter," he thought to himself, but still he strapped it on.

Using the rod, Snape continued deeper into the maze. He began to wonder if he wasn't just playing some kind of pick up sticks game. He hadn't met an obstacle yet. Suddenly, the divining rod stopped pulling. There was a bit of a dark spot ahead, the torches spaced wider in this section. Snape stared into the darkness and thought he saw movement. He quickly dropped the divining rod and pulled out his wand defensively.

Someone moved in the darkness, then walked forward. Snape stared at him with a slight frown on his face.

"Hello, Severus," Lucius Malfoy purred. The wizard was dressed in green silk robes, a scabbard at his side. He had no wand.

"Lucius," Snape said in return. "I see you've been persuaded to join my nuptials."

Lucius gave Snape a smile.

"Yes. Albus asked me if I would participate. The idea was so intriguing I just couldn't turn him down. Your witch is quite . . . kinky. Imagine, making you fight your way to your wedding bed. Hopefully, you'll have enough strength to consummate your marriage when this is all over. Personally, I'd bugger the hell out of her if she put me through this."

"I chose to enter the maze, Lucius. I wasn't forced. She's worth it," Snape replied coolly, tucking his wand back into his waistband as he faced Lucius. The pureblood wasn't wearing that sword for nothing. Lucius had been a sixth-year when Snape entered Hogwarts. The pureblood was quite popular, and on occasion he teased the somber first-year. Snape used to watch him practice sword-play and joined his club in his second year when Lucius started teaching others. Lucius used to give Snape hell, laughing at his attempts to skewer him and knocking him about mercilessly. Snape had heart, but he was just too small at the time to do any damage. Still, Lucius did teach him the basics of swordplay. Now, the student would face the teacher.

Snape wasn't small now.

Lucius gave a little chuckle at his reply.

"Is she really, Severus? Well, my job is to hold you here, or make you send up a flare and end this travesty. You can give up now, if you like," the blonde wizard drawled, drawing a rather dull sword from his scabbard. "Discretion is the better part of valor, after all."

Snape took off his pouch and drew his own sword, his black eyes narrowed as he took a defensive stance.

"Usually, Lucius, discretion is practically my middle name, but, in this case I'll make an exception," he purred.

"Very well, Severus," Lucius replied as he charged the wizard, blade raised high.

"Prepare to be defeated!"

* * *

A/N: So, Severus decided to enter the maze. This is really fun to write. Adding Lucius was a plus. Yum. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	60. The Hardest Obstacle to Face

**Chapter 60 The Hardest Obstacle to Face . . .**

Snape met Lucius' attack, blocking the blow, the two wizards standing face to face for a moment, the pureblood giving Snape a crooked smile before they parted, swords at the ready. The Potions master took a quick measure of the terrain and his opponent.

Snape would have to fight him here in the light. If he attempted to drive Lucius back, Lucius would have the advantage of darkness behind him. Ideally, if Snape could switch positions with him, he'd have the advantage.  
"No time to think, Severus," Lucius said, attempting to strike at Snape's legs. The sword wouldn't cut him, but the impact of a slash would hurt like hell. Snape parried, then thrust at Lucius' loins. Thankfully he missed, Lucius managing to divert the direction of the blow with his blade.

"My, that's dirty Quidditch, Snape," Lucius said, waggling a finger at him.

"You should know. You taught it to me, Lucius," Snape said, attacking again.

The sound of blade clashing against blade rang through the maze as the wizards went at each other, robes billowing and bathed in torchlight as they danced back and forth. Lucius' long blonde hair flailed and bounced dramatically as if he were a hero from a cheesy romance novel. He did look dashing however, and that only made Snape want to knock his block off even more. Lucius was the original pretty boy.

Snape attempted to get past Lucius, but Lucius side-stepped and blocked his way every time. There was no spinning in this fight and they kept it close, their swords held in the middle position, protecting the torso to the head when they paused. This was the best position for parrying and counterstriking.

"There's an awful amount of roses here," Lucius said, driving Snape back with a barrage of blows, but unable to make contact as the Potions master parried. "Your wife must not know you very well, unless she did this to purposely put you off your game."

Snape knew Lucius was goading him in an attempt to make him make an error in judgment.

"It will take more than a few bloody flowers to put me off my game, Lucius. I've a witch to get to," he growled, driving Lucius back with his own barrage of blows.

The wizards were both panting now. The swords they had were not only dull, but heavy, and seemed to be getting heavier by the minute.

"You could go to your witch and save us a lot of perspiration if you would only fire the blasted spark," Lucius panted at him, twisting to block a blow aimed at his shoulder. But he wasn't able to recover quickly enough and Snape punched him in the side of the face, with his fist, staggering him sideways. He then attempted to run past him, but Lucius stuck out his foot and tripped him, then ran in front of him, blocking the way as he gingerly rubbed his bruised cheek.

"Ouch," he commented briefly before going on point again.

Snape got off the ground, brushing at his robes, his dark eyes glittering as he looked at the wizard. This was taking far too long and they were evenly matched. Too evenly.

"I'm tired of this," he said to Lucius, who lowered his sword.

"Are you ready to admit defeat and fire the spark?" the pureblood asked him, victory in his gray eyes.

"Not exactly," Snape said, pulling his wand out.

Lucius' eyes went wide.

"Snape! I don't have my wand," Lucius hissed at him. "This is completely dishonorable!"

"I don't have time for honor, Lucius. As I said before, I have a witch to get to. Stupefy!"

Snape blasted Lucius with a stunner and the wizard crumpled. Snape looked down at his unconscious foe and wondered if he should bind him. No doubt Lucius would be furious when he awoke and might attempt to follow him.

Snape sheathed his sword, then picked up Lucius' weapon and threw it into the hedge to be on the safe side. He walked back and picked up his divining rod, then walked back to Lucius, pointing his wand at him. Better safe than ambushed from behind at the most inopportune moment.

Suddenly, several vines snaked out from the lowest section of the maze, wrapped around the pureblood and drew him into the hedge, covering him with foliage. Snape blinked. Was Devil's Snare carnivorous? Hm. He couldn't recall the plant ever actually eating a victim. Strangling one to death? Yes. But not actually eating one. But the vines didn't seem to be crushing Lucius. Maybe it was the way the maze kept itself pristine.

Whatever. More than likely Lucius would be fine. Snape held up the divining rod again and waited for it to guide him. It moved forward, the wizard following.

Stunning Lucius had been rather dirty, but satisfying. Besides, Severus was a Slytherin and all Slytherins had a less than noble side that they utilized when necessary.

Well, in this case it was necessary.

The divining rod drew him through the dark area and the torch spacing returned to normal. It hesitated and turned left, leading him through another opening in the hedge, then turning right. Snape followed the rod for more than forty-five minutes before it shuddered and stopped in front of another dark area.

Snape put the rod down on the ground and drew his sword as he peered into the darkness.

"Come out!" he hissed, brandishing the sword. Again, there was movement. Snape backed up as the shape took on form. Something was walking slowly toward him, on four legs.

Four legs?

Snape quickly pulled out his wand. He faltered a little as he saw the face of an almond eyed woman, her eyes slightly slanted, and her skin olive-complexioned. It wore a very sexy smile as the rest of its body emerged from the darkness. It had the body of a very large lion, with huge paws and what seemed like huger claws. The creature sat down in the middle of the row, effectively blocking the wizard from continuing on. It eyed Snape, swishing its tufted tail.

"Your wand won't work on me," the sphinx said in a deep, hoarse voice. "So put it away."

The creature sounded very different than what Snape expected. So, if there was a sphinx, that meant there would be a riddle he'd have to answer. He put his wand away.

"I imagine you have a question for me," Snape said to the sphinx, whose eyes narrowed.

"Of course. That is the purpose of being a sphinx. Asking humans questions then strangle and devour them when they cannot answer," the sphinx said with a rather predatory smile. Then it frowned slightly.

"However, in your case, I can only make you turn and take another path, drat the luck. I owed Hagrid a favor. It had to do with a thorn in my paw," the sphinx said.

Snape wasn't interested in the details.

"Ask your question, sphinx," he said shortly, looking impatient.

"Ah, yes. There's a female waiting for you in a cottage," the sphinx said, sniffing at him delicately. "I can smell the testosterone from here. Very well, here is the riddle . . ."

Snape listened carefully, expecting to hear something that would stump a normal human being.

"What creature," the sphinx said importantly, "in the morning goes on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?"

Snape blinked at the sphinx. Was it serious?

"That's your question?" he asked it in disbelief.

The sphinx nodded.

"The answer is a man. He crawls as an infant in his youth, walks on two legs in his prime and uses a cane in his old age. Oedipus answered that riddle in Sophocles' play centuries ago. Everyone knows the answer to that riddle," Snape told the sphinx, which looked very surprised.

"Hm, so you've read it, then?" the sphinx asked him.

"Everyone's read it," Snape said dryly. "Now, please remove yourself from my path."

The sphinx blinked at him.

"That was just a trial riddle," it said, trying to recoup its losses. Damn, it needed some new riddles. "What's green and gray and red all over?"

"No, I've answered your riddle, let me pass," Snape said, picking up the divining rod and approaching the sphinx now.

"A frog in a blender, but that's all right. I know more," the sphinx said quickly as Snape sidled by it. "What's the quickest way to count cows?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Snape called back.

"Use a cow-culator," the sphinx said, following him now.

"Get away from me," Snape said, urging the divining rod to pull faster. The sphinx slowed down. It wasn't supposed to follow him. It tried one more riddle.

"Why does a golfer always carry an extra pair of trousers with him?"

"Leave me alone, blast you!"

"In case he gets a hole-in-one," the sphinx cried as Snape turned into another opening. Thank the gods. And the sphinx was supposed to be incredibly wise?

Incredibly annoying seemed to describe the creature more accurately.

* * *

Snape walked in a straight line for what seemed to be a mile. He had seen no openings in the hedge at all, which was strange. The divining rod passed a lot of openings as it guided him, but in this case, there were none. Suddenly he saw darkness ahead of him. But it wasn't a darkness caused by the spacing of torches. A huge tree with a trunk that almost touched the sides of the maze stood rooted before him. But, there was enough space for him to squeeze pass it. Or so he thought.

There wasn't hedge next to the tree, but stone columns on either side, purposely placed there to stop his progress. But they were still part of the maze. If he tried to destroy them, he had no doubt something very unpleasant would happen. He was surrounded by hedges now. If those vines came out . . .

Snape studied the tree. Hm. Maybe he could gouge out some of the trunk with his wand and then get through. He put down the divining rod and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the tree's trunk, carefully angling the tip so the spell wouldn't accidentally hit the hedge..

"Reducto!" Snape cried.

A very small piece of the tree was blasted away. Damn. This was going to take some time. Maybe if he focused his intent more it would work faster.

Suddenly, Snape heard angry chittering coming from above him. He looked up to see a number of what looked like flat-faced little stick men made of bark and twigs. They were all pointing long sharp fingers at him as they chattered angrily.

"Bowtruckles," Snape breathed, slowly backing away from the tree as he pointed his wand at them. There had to be hundreds of the little creatures. And he had fucked with their tree.

Bowtruckles were insect-eating tree dwellers. They had long sharp fingers, two on each hand, and were known to do damage with them when angered. Well, these were some very angry bowthuckles. They leapt out of the tree, raining down on Snape, who blasted a few out of the air, kicked and flailed at them and started to run back up the row. But bowthuckles were fast, and he hissed with pain as several leapt on his legs and started pricking him with their sharp fingers. He tried to kick them off, but they held on, and the others were pursuing, some running alongside the hedge horizontally. He tried to Disapparate, but couldn't. Damn it. The maze had anti-Apparition spells on it. Flitwick again. Maybe the wizards weren't that benevolent. And Hagrid had supplied the bowtruckles.

Snape was about to be overcome by the little creatures. He was going to have to send up that flare to save himself. But he didn't want to do that. A bowtruckle swung around his pouch and tried to prick him in the chest. Snape crushed it in his hand and flung it away, which caused a newly enraged round of chittering from the others.

His pouch! Still running, Snape ripped the pouch open and grabbed the only item he had in it, the squirming bag of woodlice. He spun, shaking the bag of lice on the ground. Every single bowtruckle, including the ones clinging to his legs and climbing up his back, stopped what they were doing to enjoy a meal. Wood lice were the bowtruckles favorite food.

Snape gingerly picked his way back through the bowtruckles. A few passed him, hurrying toward the feast. As soon as he was clear of them, he ran for the tree again. He wasted no time blasting an opening between the trunk and column, then grabbed his divining rod and sidled through. Dear gods. He'd almost been completely skewered.  
Hermione better have some healing potion at that cottage. He was going to need it. Dots of crimson peppered the back of his white shirt, showing just where the bowtruckles had pricked him.

Snape scowled as he walked down the row led by the divining rod. After all this, Hermione might need a bit of healing potion too by the time he was finished with her.

He made a left and stopped short, his eyes rounding. Someone was standing in the path. Someone he could clearly see and recognize. Someone absolutely chilling.

"You killed me," a silken voice hissed.

Snape didn't say anything as he stared at his own image, staring back at him. But this version was very gaunt, his cheekbones sharp and nearly skeletal, and his skin so sallow it was nearly yellow. His hair was lifeless and lank, and a bit too long. His robes were stark and severe as was the double's demeanor.

"I worked all my life to survive, and you, you destroyed me. I had a right to exist, a right to my life as piteous as it was. You murdered me. You and your little Mudblood wife," Snape said to Snape, who simply stared at him—unable to speak at all.

* * *

A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter, particularly the sphinx. Man, those riddles were so horrible. I was cracking up the entire time I was writing that part. Poor Snape. Lol. I bet you all thought Snape was facing Tom Riddle. But I thought facing himself would be more chilling. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	61. The Challenge Continued

**Chapter 61 The Challenge Continued**

Snape's double took a menacing step toward the Potion's master, his pallid face twisted in a sneer.

"In the other timeline, I was a hero. I didn't fight my destiny but accepted it, the misery, the pain, the glorious unfairness of it all. Unlike you, I wasn't a coward. You raped your wife, then murdered a man who did nothing but stand by you . . murdered him like a coward. You bound him, poisoned him and then slit his throat because you were afraid to face the future . . . and in this timeline you took that same Mudblood you raped and kept her as your personal plaything for four years, before you married her, too weak and pathetic to let her go. You call yourself a man? You're no man, Severus Snape .You're a writhing, groveling, sniveling coward . . ."

The double took another step toward Snape, who stared at it, then shakily lifted his wand.

"Riddikulus!" he rasped hoarsely

The other Snape turned into a pale, ghostly, translucent image of itself, fading into nothingness. The creature let out a hiss and floated quickly away into the darkness. It had been a Boggart of course. A Boggart was a creature that took on the form of what a person most feared to protect itself. No one knew what a Boggart looked like in its natural shape, because it always appeared as something else.

Snape stood there, blinking after the creature, his heart pounding. He had never known a Boggart to speak before, but since it was his own fear and he was alone, maybe the illusion had intensified. Simply looking at himself as he was in the other timeline might not have invoked enough fear, but those words . . . those cutting, stinging words.

Snape faltered. He suddenly had the urge to end this game. Up to this point it had been challenging, even a bit fun. But this last obstacle had been a psychological attack, reaching into his mind and pulling out his darkest, innermost misgivings. Severus Snape, as strong as he appeared to be, was not made of stone. He had a conscience. In this timeline it wasn't buried as deep as in the other.

As a young man, he initially felt some guilt at killing Tom Riddle, but when he read about the atrocities he had committed, he felt less guilty about it, and finally pushed the wizard's death into a dark, niche of his consciousness and just didn't think about him any longer. But the hard fact was, when he killed Tom Riddle, the wizard had been nothing but supportive of him. Snape had betrayed the trust of the only man who seemed to care about him. And Hermione. He had coerced her. He was a young, randy wizard at the time, but he hadn't given her much choice in the matter when he had sex with her. As a young man, he didn't think it was rape, but as an older wizard—

And he had been weak for Hermione, he still was. He loved the witch deeply and couldn't imagine himself without her. In the other timeline he had been resigned to being alone and lived with it stoically. Here, he needed, wanted someone . . .

Doubt and guilt began to creep over him as he stood there, a sense of despair filling him, welling up from his very soul. The air around him became cold, almost chilling. He reflexively wrapped his arms around himself, letting his head hang.

Behind him, a floating form shifted and drew silently closer, hovering behind the wizard, drinking in his hopelessness.

Snape's wand hand began to lift. He was ready to give up, to end the challenge. The Knight had failed. He raised his wand, his eyes turning up to the night sky. It was filled with twinkling stars. He breathed out, smoke curling before him.

The wizard stopped, his eyes resting on his warm breath. It shouldn't be visible this early in the season. Something was wrong here.

Suddenly Snape spun, snarling as he saw the Dementor hovering behind him, adorned in long black robes, scabby gray hands with black nails dangling from the sleeves, a hood drawn over its head. It smelled of death. The creature looked at Snape out of the blackness of the cowl. He could only see its glittering eyes.

The despair he felt wasn't self-generated. It was the effect of the Dementor's proximity. It had almost made him give up. Anger swelled inside Snape, building in strength as he focused all his will on what he had to do next.

"Expecto Patronum!" he roared, firing the spell at the Dementor and staring in disbelief as his Patronus appeared with a roar, charging the creature and chasing it down the row.

Snape hadn't cast this spell in many, many years, since he was a teenager himself. It had been a doe then, the same Patronus that Lily Evans had. He couldn't bear to summon it after they parted ways. It reminded him of her, and he didn't want to think of her any longer. Well, it would never remind him of her again, because it had changed.

Snape watched as his Patronus trotted back toward him, silver and sleek, sitting down on its haunches, the dark eyes looking up at him for a moment before it faded. Snape stood there, staring at the empty space.

A lioness. His Patronus was a lioness.

Hermione. It reflected his love of Hermione. A Patronus could only change when there was a powerful connection that hadn't there before. Obviously, his love for Hermione was so strong, it negated his connection to Lily completely.

A Patronus also gave its master a renewed feeling of strength and self-worth whenever it appeared, which was part of the magic that repelled Dementors. Snape felt encouraged. How could he ever have thought of disappointing Hermione by not finishing the maze? He knew she wouldn't act disappointed, but she would be.

The wizard tucked his wand into his waist, picked up the divining rod and continued on, determined to reach his bride and claim his prize.

* * *

Four hours had passed, and Hermione was getting worried. She didn't know exactly what was in the maze. She had only been assured it would be challenging and her husband wouldn't be killed.

She paced around the cottage, stopping every few minutes to stare out of the window. Several times she walked outside, watching for any sign of him, before returning to the cottage. She began to think she shouldn't have done this. What if he was hurt and unable to fire the spark?

Finally, she put on a robe over her nightgown and stepped into her shoes. Grabbing her wand, she opened the door and headed out of the cottage. She was going to find Severus.

The cottage was surrounded by the hedge of blue and white roses. Torches were placed around the perimeter so she could see clearly. She located an opening in the hedge and began to walk toward it. She got within ten feet, and the opening suddenly filled with foliage, effectively closing it, keeping her from leaving.

"What the hell is this?" Hermione cried at the hedge as if it could hear her. "Open up!"

The hedge remained closed. Hermione stalked around the perimeter, finding two more openings that immediately closed as she approached them.

"Oh, gods damn it," she seethed.

Then she pointed her wand at the hedge.

"Reducto!" she cried.

* * *

Snape had been quite busy in the maze. After siccing his Patronus on the Dementor, he had to anesthetize a flock of Doxies with a spray bottle of Doxicide that had been conveniently supplied. The creatures had ambushed him from the hedges, swarming around him. He had been bitten by one, and as a result floated helplessly for about five minutes before the effects of the bite wore off.

Next, he came to the edge of a rather large chasm he had to cross. Several brooms and a very long staff rested against the hedge. Snape thought had to select the broom that would get him across the gap, but none of them would fly. He stared at them for several minutes. They were old fashioned brooms with thick, stiff bristles and flat broad handles.

Hm.

Then he had an idea. He levitated one of the brooms with his wand and laid it at the edge of the chasm, fixing it in place. Then he laid the next one slightly on top of it, then the next, using all the brooms and forming a slender bridge to the other side. Readjusting his sword and pouch, he carefully picked up the long staff and used it to help balance himself as he carefully tightrope walked across the broomsticks. There were a few hairy, one-legged moments and he ran the final ten feet as the brooms fell behind him. There was a small splash below. Apparently there was water at the bottom of the chasm.

He had just finished a game of chess. The board had been enormous and the pieces were life-sized. He had to play the part of the black knight, directing the movements of the other pieces. It was a good game. The Potions master won, of course, the king dropping its sword at his feet. He had just left the board and was using the diving rod to walk up the row when he heard a rumble and all the hedges surrounding him began to shudder.

"Shit!" Snape cursed, breaking into a run as the maze began to reconfigure itself, hedges closing in on him from all sides.

He fought through them, the bloody roses pressing into his nose and covering him with their perfume. The bad part was there were thorns as well, that scratched his face He fought through them, finding openings and rows that closed quickly behind him. The reconfiguration only took a minute, but it felt like forever as Snape was buffeted about and nearly smothered by roses. Finally, the maze was reconfigured and Snape stood in the middle of an open row, thorns embedded in his shirt and trousers, tears in his clothing, red scratches on his face and hands and rose petals in his hair. He angrily brushed them off.

"What the hell happened?" he hissed.

* * *

Hermione stood horrified as she heard the maze reconfigure itself. She hadn't known that would happen when she blasted it. Nothing happened where she was standing, but she could only imagine what Severus had gone through. She hoped he was all right.

The rumbling stopped and an opening appeared in the hedge directly in front of her as if taunting her. She took a step toward it, and it filled in only slightly. She took another step and it filled in even more. Hermione stepped back and the opening widened.

"Bloody hell," she hissed. Then she had an idea.

"Severus! Severus! Are you out there?" she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth, hoping her voice would carry.

* * *

Severus suddenly cocked his head. He heard something. A very faint shout.

"Severus!" Hermione cried again. "Are you in there? Are you all right? I'm here!"

The Potions master began to run through the maze on his own, carrying the rod with him, Hermione's voice becoming louder and louder, but several rows over to his right. He searched for openings and ran through them, heading back the other way, orienting on her voice. He hit a few dead ends, and there was a hag in one of them, with crooked, sharp fingers and gnashing teeth. Hags were flesh-eaters. Severus blasted her and retreated quickly. He didn't have time for battles now.

"Hermione!" he yelled.

Hermione heard him, and renewed her yelling, her heart pounding at the sound of his voice.

"I'm here! You're almost here!" she cried, happy and relieved as his voice carried over to her.

The final few rows were very convoluted, but Snape had dropped the divining rod and threw off the pouch and sword in his haste to get to Hermione, so he had to go the final rows alone. It was maddening. Hermione was only one row over now, calling to him desperately. He had to navigate the entire perimeter, and fell into a very deep puddle that had two Grindelows waiting at the bottom of it. They attempted to drag him down.

Furious, Snape choked the hell out of one of the creatures until it went limp and drifted downward. He managed to swim up and grab the side of the hole, gulping air before the other Grindelow pulled him back under. Hermione, who was only one row over, could hear him cursing and splashing about.

"Severus!" she cried.

Snape managed to pull the Grindelow off him and swam upward, throwing the creature out of the puddle, then climbing out of it, drenched and angry. The creature gasped, its gills working furiously, having no water to breathe. Snape kicked it back into the puddle.

"Severus! Are you all right? What's happening?" Hermione called fearfully.

Snape didn't answer her as he continued navigating the maze, soaking wet now, not thinking to dry himself with his wand. He was almost there. Suddenly, there was an opening in the hedge and he stepped through. Hermione was standing on the other side of the maze facing the hedge. He had entered the area behind her.

"Severus!" Hermione cried, tears in her eyes now. Why wasn't he answering her? What had happened to him? Oh, this was horrible. She should have never, ever made him go through this? Something had got him . . . she just knew it.

Snape crept up behind the witch, aware she was crying.

"Severus!" she screamed, nearly insane with worry.

"Yes?"

Hermione spun and saw him standing there. He was drenched, his hair was plastered to his head, there were scratches on his face and hands, his shirt and trousers had little rips in them and he stunk of roses.

He was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

"Oh, Severus! You're all right! You made it through," she cried, leaping into his arms, not caring he was soaking wet as she kissed him happily.

"Barely," he growled when they broke their kiss.

Then Hermione realized his state.

"Oh, you poor thing. Let me fix you up. I have some medicinal potions inside," she said to him, taking his hand and leading him to the small cottage.

"You're going to fix me up, Mrs. Snape, believe me," he said softly, his eyes resting on the curves beneath those robes. He saw her legs were bare.

Hm. This looked promising.

It was going to be quite the night for the Knight.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	62. The Clean Up

**Chapter 62 ~ The Clean Up**

Once Hermione got Severus inside, she quickly dried him off with a flick of her wand, then herself. She led him over to the bed.

"Sit down and take off your shirt," she said solicitously. "I'll go get some healing potion and take care of those scratches."

Snape sat down and began unfastening his shirt as Hermione entered the small bathroom and opened the small medicinal store. She retrieved a bottle of healing potion and some q-tips. She found a small basin under the sink and filled it with warm, soapy water and grabbed a washcloth and small towel out of the little pantry.

Hermione felt so guilty. She hadn't known he'd be physically injured, just that he'd go through somewhat difficult challenges. Looking contrite, she returned to the bedroom to find her husband topless and looking at her. Feeling self-conscious, she set everything on the nightstand next to the bed. She then dipped the washcloth into the warm water, wrung it out a bit and tipped Snape's face upward, dabbing at it gently to clean it as his dark eyes rested on her face. She looked upset as she moved the cloth to his throat, which also had scratches on it from the thorns. She rinsed the washcloth and began to clean his chest. There weren't many scratches there, but there were a lot on his arms. As she rinsed the cloth again, Snape leaned forward to give her access to his back and Hermione gasped as she saw all the little holes from the bowtruckles peppering his skin.

"Severus, what stung you?" she asked him as she gingerly dabbed around the marks.

"Those aren't stings, Hermione, they're pricks. I ran into a group of rather angry bowtruckles," he replied.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Severus," Hermione said, her voice quavering as he sat back up. "I didn't know you'd be physically injured."

Snape lifted an eyebrow at her.

"All knights face dangers, wife," he said with a slight smirk. "Isn't that what you wanted? For me to face mortal peril to reach you?"

Hermione blinked at him.

"Not mortal peril, or even peril at all. Just a few little challenges," she replied, putting the rag down and picking up the bottle of healing potion. She poured a bit of it into the cap, then picked up a q-tip, dipping it in as Snape tilted his head back again.

"It was certainly challenging," he said as she ran the q-tip over the scratches, which healed and disappeared. "But my 'wounds' are hardly life-threatening. Quite superficial actually."

Hermione didn't accept his brushing his injuries off so easily.

"Still, it's my fault you have them," she said softly.

Snape frowned slightly.

"I thought I weaned you off your Gryffindor guilt complex, Hermione. It certainly isn't your fault. I was the one who chose to enter the maze," he said to her.

"But you wouldn't have entered it if I didn't put it here first," Hermione countered.

"And I wouldn't have enjoyed myself as much as I did if I hadn't entered it," the dark wizard replied.

Hermione stopped healing his scratches for a moment.

"You enjoyed it?" she asked him, a bit of hope returning to her voice.

Snape nodded.

"In retrospect, it was quite—exhilarating. Being challenged and emerging victorious is very heady, and I will always remember it fondly. In fact, I may make arrangements to do this again on occasion. Perhaps, you would come with me, since you feel the 'tameness' of our lives. We could face the challenges together."

Now Hermione beamed at him. She'd love to face a maze with him. It sounded exciting.

"Oh, Severus, that's a wonderful idea!" she gushed, giving him a quick peck on the lips, not noticing how his eyes glittered when she drew back and began attending him again. His dark eyes drifted over her robes.

"What kind of challenges did you face?" she asked him.

Severus told her as she healed all the visible wounds on his. Hermione couldn't believe Lucius Malfoy was in the maze, and that Severus stunned him.

"That wasn't Quidditch, Severus," she chided him as she finished his back.

The wizard stood up, toed off his boots and began to work on his trousers. He had scratches and pricks on his arse and legs, though he had managed to protect his goods. Hermione watched him silently.

"No, not Quidditch, but definitely Slytherin. At least I engaged him first," Severus replied. "The swordplay was taking too long and I was anxious to get to my—damsel."

He lowered his trousers and stepped out of them, now dressed only in his briefs and socks. He was semi-aroused. Hermione could see the scratches and pricks on his legs.

"Wait here," she said, returning to the bathroom to retrieve fresh water to clean him with. While she was gone, Severus removed his briefs. When she returned, she stopped in the doorway, looking at the nearly naked wizard. All the good parts were showing but he still had on his black socks.

"What are you doing?" she asked him as she walked up, trying to hide her smile as she set the basin and washcloth on the nightstand. Snape turned around to show her the pricks on his arse.

"Oh, they got you there, too," she observed.

"Yes, they did," he agreed. "And I am in dire need of treatment, damsel."

Hermione washed his buttocks, goosing him in the process. Severus jumped.

"Watch it, witch," he growled, as Hermione giggled. Then she lowered herself and washed the back of his legs.

"Turn around," she said in a low voice.

Severus turned and looked down at Hermione as she slowly cleaned his thighs, her face level with his loins. His semi-erection went full-blown. She acted as if she didn't see it, but there was no way a cock as big as Severus' could be ignored.

"You might as well clean everything," the wizard said softly.

Hell she was already down there and had washed practically everything. She might as well finish the job.

Hermione looked up at him.

"All right," she said, standing up and rinsing the washcloth. She soaped it up well and returned to Severus, bringing the basin with her and setting it on the floor nearby. She dropped down again but on her knees this time using her robes for cushion. Her belly fluttered as she looked at his erection.

Slowly she brought the washcloth to his pelvis, soaping up the curling black hair at the base of his cock, then gently moving to his balls, the wizard hissing and closing his eyes as she lathered them. She then drew his foreskin back, scenting the maleness of him as she ran the cloth slowly up and down his length before twisting it around the head.

Severus let out a pleasure-filled sound and tilted his face toward the ceiling as she soaped his sensitive cock liberally and carefully. It was rock hard and very easy to access. Hermione stared at it with pursed lips as she attended it. The Potions master had a beautiful tool. Hermione dipped the cloth again, and soaped it.

"Now, you be sure to tell me when it's 'clean' enough," she said to him throatily, lifting his organ with one hand and squeezing the cloth over the thick head. The soapsuds ran down his length, white and glistening, ending up in his pubic hair. Hermione began to fist him slowly, Snape pushing his hips forward and groaning with pleasure as she gave him a nice, wet, soapy hand job, bringing the cloth back to his balls and gently cupping and pulling them with the wet fabric.

Snape's head snapped forward and he looked down at his witch, his mouth slack and eyes hot.

"I'm coming close to 'clean,'" he groaned.

Hermione smiled slightly and began to fist him faster, squeezing more suds on his cock for lubrication as her hand worked up and down his length and over the head, tightening her grip somewhat, and Snape let out another louder groan, helplessly thrusting now.

"Yesyesyesyes," he purred, feeling the delicious tightening in his balls. Hermione felt them draw up and quickly brought the cloth loosely to the head of his cock just as the wizard let out a hoarse cry, coming into the cloth, his back arching and pleasure blowing through him as Hermione stroked him gently through it, feeling the pulsing underneath his shaft as he released.

Snape let out a sigh as his climax ended and Hermione carefully removed the cloth, rinsing it in the water then proceeding to clean off all the soap on his pelvis as he panted down at her.

"Now that's clean," he said softly, reaching down and drawing her up. He kissed her tenderly.

"You're going to be a good wife," he breathed when he broke the kiss.

Hermione smiled up at him.

"I know," she replied. "The very best wife."

* * *

A/N: Short chapter I know. But Trinity is cranky and won't go to sleep. I have to go pick her up. I've already been bouncing her around for nearly two hours. So, there will be more later. Sorry about that. ***


	63. Reactions

**Chapter 63 ~ Reactions**

Lily Potter leafed through the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Hm, the Galleon rose again. Wizarding economy was looking quite good. She turned the page to the Society section and glanced at the photo in the lower right corner.

She froze for a moment, then read the headline.

"Snape/Granger wedding"

There was a photo of Severus Snape adorning his young wife in a beautiful wedding gown by magic, and his quote about "all angels wear white."

They were married today.

Lily stared at the picture of Hermione spreading her arms and being wrapped in the lovely beaded gown. The witch looked at Snape with such love, it fairly dripped off the parchment.

"He's finally found someone of his own," Lily said to herself, thinking the witch looked far younger than him. But she read she was a full-fledged Potions mistress and held the record for the highest marks at Hogwarts in years. So, they had something in common. And she was a Gryffindor. It seemed Severus didn't get over his attraction for witches from Godric's house.

"Maybe he'll stop hating me so much now," she thought as she watched him cast the gown spell again.

Lily was making far too much of this and somewhere in her deeper consciousness still thought she was important to the dark wizard. Unforgettable. The witch who got away. She couldn't be more wrong

Snape hadn't thought about her in ages. Most likely, he'd never think of her again.

* * *

Ron Weasley was also looking at the Prophet's society page. He was married to Lavender Brown and already had two children and another on the way. He worked at Fred and George's joke shop, but he wasn't a partner. Still, he earned a fairly decent salary from his brothers, who had to scrimp, save, beg and borrow to get up the capital to start their shop. Yet, they were doing well now, having paid off their creditors.

Ron studied how beautiful Hermione looked in the wedding dress Snape had made for her. She had very nice curves. Ron traced her with a finger just as a rotund Lavender walked into the kitchen. She saw him touching the newspaper and walked over to see what he was looking at. Ron pulled his finger away from the paper guiltily as Lavender looked at the paper, then scowled at him.

"Don't tell me after three years of marriage and two children, you still have the hots for Hermione Granger?" his wife hissed at him.

"No! Lavender, I was just looking at her gown. It's nice," Ron replied lamely as his wife glowered at him.

"Nice. Well, she's married now, Ron, just like you are and there's no chance of getting at her, so get over it!" Lavender fumed, turning and stalk-rolling out of the kitchen, her big belly leading the way.

* * *

At Luna's house, she and Neville were also looking at the Prophet.

"I didn't get a chance to say two words to her, Luna," Neville said as he watched the moving photo. He and Luna were sitting side by side at the kitchen table, Luna with her chin in her hand as she looked at the paper, too.

"I'm sure you'll get a chance to talk to her, Neville. We're back in England now," she said to him softly.

Neville brightened.

"Yeah, that's right, Luna. We're back," he said, looking up at her. His eyes were full of love as he looked at his fiancée. "We can get married as soon as I can figure out what to do with my life."

Luna gave him a soft smile.

"You know, Neville, opportunities can come from the strangest places," she told him, her blue eyes resting on him with just as much love. "Did you know Professor Snape had to go through a maze tonight?"

Neville looked shocked.

"A maze? What kind of maze? Why would he be doing that on his wedding night?" he asked, then thought about it.

"Hermione. She's still insane," he said, answering his own question and shaking his head. "I'm amazed he agreed."

Luna smiled again.

"Well, he didn't know about it, Neville. It was a surprise," she told him. "He had to make his way through it to have a honeymoon night. It's romantic."

"Merlin. I wonder if Hermione will survive the wedding night? I don't see Snape as the kind of wizard that would enjoy jumping through those kinds of hoops," he said, "but he really was romantic today, making that gown for her and saying what he did."

Luna nodded.

"That maze was ingenious, or so I was told by the witches. Madam Sprout created it, and it was filled with all kinds of challenges. You know, I bet people would like to go through something like that, Neville. I bet—they'd pay good Galleons for that kind of an adventure. If someone who had a gift for growing things latched on to that idea, I'd bet they'd make enough money to get married—"

Neville blinked at her.

"You think so, Luna?" he asked her, looking thoughtful.

"Yes. People love adventure, Neville. And you're a Plant master. Imagine the kinds of mazes you could create. There could be different levels and everything. All we would need would be a couple of investors. I've got a lot of land, you know, well, Dad does and he'd let us use it as long as we didn't plow it over or anything. Kept it natural."

"It would have to be natural," Neville said, warming to the idea. "That would make the maze seem even more exciting. You know the specs for the Triwizard maze are on file at the Ministry. I could get a copy of that and find out the safeguards they used . . ."

Neville began to talk animatedly about the possibilities as Luna quietly listened, a small smirk on her face. More than likely there'd be a wedding soon.

* * *

"Lucius, calm down," Narcissa Malfoy sat to her fuming husband as he angrily paced back and forth in their luxurious study at Malfoy manor.

The tall, stately blonde witch prepared him a brandy, hoping that would help calm him as he railed against Snape.

"He bloody stunned me, Narcissa, the blackguard!" Lucius hissed, taking the drink from his wife. Narcissa tried to look sympathetic, but it was pretty damned funny.

"I know. It wasn't Quidditch at all, but you should have kept your wand with you," she told him softly. Lucius' handsome face screwed up even more.

"I couldn't keep it. Albus took it to make sure the swordfight didn't turn into a wizard's duel. I didn't know Snape would still have his wand. When I saw it, I was sure he wouldn't use it," Lucius stated, taking a sip of his brandy.

"You made a common mistake in judgment, Lucius. You underestimated a Slytherin. I think you've gone a bit soft," she said to her husband.

Lucius looked highly affronted.

"Soft? I haven't gone soft! I could have navigated that maze twice as fast as Snape and without having to resort to underhanded tactics," he groused, finishing his drink and plopping down heavily in an upholstered chair before the fire. Narcissa sat down on the arm of it and began to stroke her husband's temples, first tucking his beautiful blonde hair behind his ears. That always relaxed him.

Lucius sighed as her fingertips massaged him.

"You know, Narcissa, there was a time I believed life would be so much more exciting than this. That there would be battles and glory," he said softly, the firelight catching his gray eyes.

Narcissa nodded, still caressing his temples.

"Yes, I know Lucius," she replied. "When Tom was alive. He said he was going to do great things for us—"

Narcissa hesitated. Lucius turned his face toward her.

"What is it, Narcissa? Is there something you want to say?" he asked her.

Narcissa still looked hesitant.

"What is it? Tell me," Lucius urged her, catching hold of one of her hands.

"Well, I remember the day you came to see me, when you had that bruise on the side of your face. You said that Tom had struck you . . ."

"Yes, I remember. He was angry I didn't deliver some important information he wanted about the Ministry. I was still too low level to access it," Lucius replied.

"And I remember you told me he punished several others with an Unforgivable== the Cruciatus curse," she continued.

"Yes," Lucius agreed.

"Lucius, I can't help thinking that== that maybe it was a good thing Tom was stopped when he was. I have the feeling that if he managed to gain more power, he would have lorded it over the rest of us. Made himself some kind of—of Lord," she said softly. "Some kind of dark lord. I was afraid of him. A lot of people were."

"He was just under a lot of pressure, Narcissa. Things weren't going the way he wanted—" Lucius said in Tom Riddle's defense.

"And he took it out on those who believed in his cause, Lucius. You were a loyal follower. So were those wizards he tortured. Couldn't you see what he was becoming?"

"But the glory he promised us—the respect. He would have made purebloods the leaders of the wizarding world," Lucius responded.

Narcissa shook her head.

"He would have made himself the leader of the wizarding world. Purebloods would have been his servants," she replied softly. "Somehow, somehow I just know this, Lucius. Besides, it really hasn't been that bad, has it? Yes, there are a number of Muggle-Borns in authority, but they do a good job and are fair. We all live in peace. Tom Riddle would have had us steeped in civil war, wizard against wizard. It would have been awful."

Lucius sighed. Narcissa was right, of course.

"Still, it would have been glorious," the wizard said, finishing his drink.

* * *

Severus sat at the cozy little table as Hermione puttered about, warming up their dinner, setting the table and lighting the candelabra She then opened the wine and let it breathe for a few seconds before pouring a glass for her husband.

Snape was dressed in black silk pajamas and barefoot. The shirt was open and his pale chest and belly were showing. He had tried to help Hermione, but she told him just to sit down, relax and let her handle her "wifely duties." Setting a table was not the Potions master's idea of "wifely duties," but he humored her.

His eyes rested on the robes and trainers she still wore as he sipped the wine. It was very good. He set the glass down on the table, then drummed his fingers on it a bit as he considered his wife and those robes.

"Ahem," he finally said to Hermione, who was about to sit down. She looked up at him quizzically.

"I think it is supremely unfair that I have to sit here in black pajamas while you wear robes," he said flatly. "Take them off."

"Oh. All right," Hermione said, blushing furiously. It was a wonder she could still blush after being the Potions master's lover for four plus years. But sometimes his intensity still had that effect on her. This was one of those times.

Severus watched as Hermione toed off her trainers, then slowly unbuttoned her robes. The sheer white nightie fell into view, her full and hard-tipped breasts, thong and dark patch of pubic hair clearly visible. Early on in their relationship, Snape had asked her not to shave it because he preferred pubic hair on a woman au natural, so she just kept it neatly trimmed.

_"I don't need a landing strip,"_ Snape had growled at her as he mounted her body, looking down at the brown curl of her sex as he parted her legs. _"I already know where I'm going—into the bush."_

Snape stared at Hermione's body as she slipped the robes off, feeling the familiar swell of instant arousal. He was seated, but Hermione knew he was turned on as she walked over to the little wardrobe against the far wall and hung her robes in it, Snape's black eyes resting on her full buttocks and thick thighs. She turned around and walked back to the table, smiling at him as she sat down.

"Better?" she asked him.

Snape nodded slowly, his eyes a bit predatory.

"Much better, wife," he replied, cutting into his chicken.

The couple ate in relative silence, Hermione refilling Severus' glass with wine two more times. He still smelled slightly of roses. Severus' eyes rested on her shifting buttocks each time she walked back to her chair to sit down, imagining himself bouncing off that soft cushion, her flesh jiggling deliciously with each thrust. Maybe tonight they'd go all the way anally.

Over the years they had done some sex play, using fingers and toys, but Snape had never penetrated her with his cock. She was afraid he was too big, although she could relax her sphincter muscles and enjoyed the sensation of having something in her arse during sex. He eyed her. Maybe because it was their wedding night, she might agree to let him try

He'd gone through the maze for her after all.

Snape wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back with a sigh as Hermione finished her meal.

She wiped her mouth also and looked up at him.

"Are you ready for dessert?" she asked him.

In answer, Snape slid his chair back, stood up and walked around the table. Hermione squealed as he grabbed her out of the chair and lifted her in his arms.

"Yes I am. I want Hermione Flambé," he purred, heading straight for the bed. "Something I know is sweet and hot."

* * *

A/N: I felt a little look around the wizarding world was in order here, and wanted to include a bit more Lucius and some Narcissa, who is usually a non-entity in my stories. I also wanted to emphasize how their world had changed, and how Lucius also felt the "tameness" of their existence. Ron and Lily were both trips, weren't they? And Luna is smart as a whip. Ooh, it looks like Hermione might have to take the "plunge" tonight. Literally. Thanks for reading.


	64. An Agreement

**Chapter 64 ~ An Agreement**

Snape gently placed Hermione on top of the bed coverings and looked down at her for a full minute. Finally, she spoke.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked him softly as his black eyes remained fixed on her. It took a moment for him to answer her.

"I am savoring this moment," he said quietly. "My first encounter with my wife. I am securing the memory of you, how you look tonight."

Hermione gave him a smile.

"You can always see me vividly if you use a Pensieve," she replied to her husband.

"I don't want that. I want to remember you vividly in my own mind, until the day I leave this earth," Snape said softly.

"It'll be a nice memory to pull up when I piss you off in the years to come," Hermione chuckled. Snape's nostrils flared then, and he purposely climbed into the bed, rolling on top of her quickly, looking down into her brown eyes.

"So, you plan on pissing me off in the years to come?" he asked her, then kissing her hungrily.

Hermione gasped when he broke the kiss.

"I'm sure I will, Severus, and no doubt you'll have flames coming out of my nose at times as well," she replied. Snape now chuckled.

"My little dragon-bride," he crooned at her. "I'm willing to take a bit of scorching."

For the next forty-five minutes, Snape snogged his wife thoroughly. He was on top of her, caressing her, but did nothing to increase the intimate contact. He hadn't even taken off her flimsy gown, and stopped Hermione when she tried to remove it and at least his shirt.

Hermione was writhing with need by now. His kisses were hot, passionate and wonderful, but gods she needed more. He was positioned in such a manner that she couldn't even feel if he were aroused or not, and he kept catching her hand when she tried to grasp his goods.

"More, Severus," she hissed against his mouth, but the wizard just deepened his kisses. Did he intend to sexually torment her on their wedding night? She felt like she could just . . . just eat him up from head to toe.

Finally, he moved to her throat, Hermione arching up against him as best she could as the wizard licked, kissed and nibbled on her throat, tasting her heated skin, making small sounds of pleasure as her hands slid impatiently over his scar-less back. Snape had no marks, because he'd never been tortured—thanks to Hermione. She slipped both hands under the elastic of his pajama bottoms, gripping his arse and pulling him upward, wanting at least some contact with his cloth-covered cock. He had to be turned on. But Snape still resisted, pulling first one hand away than the other, trapping them over her head and looking down at her frustration with a wry smirk.

"Why are you taking so long?" Hermione demanded, hissing as she spoke.

"I told you. I'm—savoring you," he replied softly, trying to kiss her again.

Angrily, Hermione twisted her mouth away.

"Enough with the bloody savoring. You're giving me the female version of blueballs," she complained. "My thong is soaked."

Snape make a big production of inhaling the air deeply, his large nostrils fluctuating. He let out a little sigh.

"Yes, I know," he said, "you smell quite heavenly. Like ambrosia."

This comment only made Hermione squirm under him more. He always told her she tasted like ambrosia when he performed oral sex on her. He was so good at it, too.

"Keep this up, Severus Tobias Snape, and I'll be filing for an annulment first thing tomorrow morning," she growled up at him. "Citing 'lack of consummation' as my complaint."

Snape gave her a sober look.

"You are my wife for life," he breathed at her, his eyes going hard for a moment. "You will never divorce me. You are part of me, Hermione Snape. When your heart contracts, then loosens, so does my own. When you draw breath, I am the one who breathes out. We are one, wife, and one we will remain."

He stared down at her with such intensity that Hermione felt her heart clutch for a moment. He loved her so much, just as much as she loved him.

"Oh, Severus," Hermione said to him softly as he released her wrists. She brought her hands to his head and caressed his hair, letting her fingers slide through the lank, black strands. "Please, make love to me. I feel as if I'm going to implode if you don't."

He quirked his lip at her.

"You know everything I do, I do with purpose," he said to the witch. "And I've brought you to this point because—I wish to ask you something. I need you willing—."

"But I am willing, Severus . . . "

"Are you, Hermione? Tonight is our wedding night, and I wish to do something special. Different. New. I've never taken you anally, witch. I've been tormented and mesmerized by watching you respond to my titillating you with vibrators, plugs and anal beads. I've felt your tightness with my fingers—you're so deliciously tight. I want you that way tonight—our honeymoon night. Will you let me do it? Will you give your knight access to that last bastion of your body, damsel?"

Hermione blinked up at her husband, her body craving him. What he said was true. They had been experimenting with sex toys for a couple of years and she could take things up the arse. She enjoyed it, too. It was only when Severus wanted to shove that monster up her that she balked, although she did have a plug that was almost as wide as his girth. Severus was the one who would gently insert it inside her during foreplay, then have sex with her, the feeling of fullness and pleasure doubled.

Hermione had been the one to introduce the toys, surprising Severus with a flail and her little vibrator. She had been standing naked by the bed, with her hands behind her back, the wizard waiting for her to join him under the covers. Then she showed him the flail.

Snape slid from under the covers, sitting on the end of the bed, completely interested. He looked up at Hermione, his dark eyes glittering with excitement. This—this was new.

_"Beat me, Severus"_ Hermione breathed, handing him the soft, wispy whip. _"Then, do me with this."_

She handed him the vibrator. Snape studied the sex toys, testing the softness of the flail, then turning the silver bullet in his hands for a moment. Then he looked up at her.

_"Your wish is my command—"_

They'd been indulging ever since, although not every time they engaged. The Potions master was very curious about Hermione's body, and what turned her on. Although she loved him, he was always secretly worried someone could come along 'better' than him. Knowing how to please his witch was very important and reassuring to the wizard. He knew every kink Hermione Granger had and willingly indulged her.

Snape was the one who introduced more targeted toys. He had purchased their first anal vibrator. Not only was he curious about the pleasure it could give Hermione, but also about his own pleasure. Did he really have a male g-spot?

A bit of discovery proved he did. He experienced one of the most intense orgasms of his life experimenting with the slim little toy. Severus Snape was a man's man. He harbored no secret fears that he might be swinging the other way. He wasn't. He was just into a bit more pleasure. Hermione asked him about it one night.

_"You know, Severus, some wizards would think playing with an anal toy would make them . . . gay or at least bisexual."_

Snape had snorted as she lay in the crook of his arm.

_"Hermione, an anus is an anus, no matter if it's next to a vagina or a penis. It's completely asexual. Getting a bit of pleasure out of it makes me no 'gayer' than you are when you use a toy,"_ he said firmly.

Now Hermione looked up into his pale, expectant face, feeling warmth rush across her lower belly. She'd done enough preparation over the years they'd been together. She could relax her muscles enough to take him if she wanted to take him. And it was their wedding night. They should do something special. She was glad she brought their "goody bag."

"All right, Severus—we can try it," she told him softly. And the Potions master gave her a rare full smile before kissing her again. She could feel the excitement in the wizard's kiss and it was infections.

"Go get the goody bag," he breathed at her after breaking the kiss.

Hermione did as he asked, the wizard's eyes resting on her plump buttocks as she walked away.

Score another victory for the knight.

* * *

Hermione returned to the bedside, setting a little bag on top of the nightstand. She opened it, and looked inside then at Severus. He was lying on his back now, and his erection made a very impressive tent in his pajama bottoms.

"What should I take out?" she asked him.

"The anal lube, that's all," the wizard said softly. "No toys tonight, wife. You'll be getting nothing but husband. 100% wizard meat. Accept no substitutes."

Hermione smiled and shook her head slightly as she took out the bottle of special lube Severus created for his and her use and set it on the nightstand within reach. It was thicker than regular lubricant and had cleaning properties as well, making the anal cavity pristine and germ-free. It also tasted like cherries.

There were advantages to being magical when it came to sex.

She turned back to Severus, who held out his arms.

"Come to me, Hermione. We can begin our wedding night in earnest," he said.

His voice sounded a bit raw as Hermione entered the bed and fell into his arms, on top now and kissing him gently, her love evident in her kiss. Snape relaxed and gave himself over to his wife's kisses, making a sound in the back of his throat as she sat up, straddling his covered erection and untying the little sash that held her wispy nightie together. She let it slide down her arms, baring her body for him, now wearing only her thong. Her full breasts were tight-peaked, the nipples hardened. He slid one hand up her belly, under the curve of one of her soft globes, the other hand arranging her long curling hair over her shoulders artistically.

He stared up at Hermione for a moment. Gods, she was beautiful and all his now.

Then Hermione ground down on his erection, whirling her hips sensuously, her hot core moistening the silk of his trousers, her eyes hot and lips parted. The hungry way her eyes glittered made her look like a Maenad, one of the wild, inebriated naked women who worshipped the god of wine, Dionysius. They were known to rip men to shreds.

As he drew Hermione down and wrapped his lips around one taunt peak, suckling her gently, Snape thought that would be an excellent way to die.

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A/N: Short chappie, I know. A lot of distractions here. I thought I'd post what I had since people have been waiting. Hope it was all right. Thanks for reading. ***


	65. The Loving

**Chapter 65 ~ The Loving**

Hermione fell forward, sighing as Severus suckled her breasts, his large, slightly calloused hands caressing the soft skin of her back and buttocks as he did so. She loved how his hands felt on her body, how deliberately they moved. He never rushed. She threw her head back and sighed, looking down at the top of his head, which moved sensuously as he laved first one breast, then the other. Slowly, Snape drew her down his body, their mouths meeting hungrily before he rolled her to the side, closest to the nightstand, one pale hand drawing down the dampened thong. Hermione pulled her legs up to help him remove it.

Now she was naked and he was fully clothed although his shirt was open.

"Get naked," Hermione breathed at him.

Snape sat up and quickly removed his pajama top and bottoms, tossing them out of the bed, then lying back down, facing Hermione as he reached for the bottle on the night stand.

Hermione's eyes widened as he lifted the anal lube, drew it in and opened it. Was he going to go straight for anal sex? She could do it, but she'd hoped there would be more intimacy and straight sex first. But then again, he could be impatient.

Snape studied her, knowing what she was thinking. Yes, he did want to pop her little anal cherry, but not before he saw to her needs. Anal sex would be part of the act, not the whole of it. It would be the close.

Hermione rolled to her belly so he could apply the lube. He kissed her temple.

"This is just in preparation, Hermione. I don't want to have to stop in the middle of our lovemaking to prep you. It will take us out of the moment, and wife, I don't want to lose any moments we share tonight," he told her softly as he rose up on his elbow and slipped the tip into Hermione's anus. He had designed the tip with little bumps on it, and it had a long, thin mouth to make applying the lubrication easier. Hermione made a little sound of pleasure as he gently slipped the bumpy tip inside her relaxed orifice.

Snape squeezed the bottle, the lubrication filling her cavity. Hermione squirmed a little as the lubricant gave her a delicious bubbling sensation as it cleaned her thoroughly, then thickened and slickened to provide lubricant and protection. Snape recapped the bottle and placed it back on the nightstand.

"Now—" he breathed, rolling her to her back and straddling her on his hands and knees. He didn't finish the sentence as he covered her mouth with his own, tasting her heat and warmth as their tongues battled, Hermione's arms wrapping around his neck. Her knees shifted back and forth and one accidentally hit his dangling cock lightly. He wasn't hurt but he stopped kissing her for a moment.

"Stop shifting, witch, or this is going to be a very short wedding night," the Potions master chided her before returning to her mouth.

Personally, Hermione thought Severus' cock would make a good Piñata, it was so huge and strong. But what came out of it when it was "whacked" certainly wouldn't be suitable for children.

Snape began to kiss and lick his way down her body, only his mouth in contact with her skin. Hermione loved when he did this, arching beneath him as his lips moved over her, inching downward, leaving nothing untouched, unworshipped. She locked her fingers in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. The wizard's head was an erogenous zone and he loved the feel of her nails. He growled as he lapped at her belly button, then kissed his way down her lower belly, stretching out and lowering himself to the bed now, his lips pulling lightly on her curled pubic hair. He blew his warm breath on her sex and looked up at his panting wife.

"Open for me, Hermione," he said softly, breathing in the scent of her arousal, his mouth watering a little.

Hermione never spread her legs unless he implicitly requested it, because it turned her on to hear him demand she do it. She spread her legs wider and let out a choked noise as Severus buried his big nose in her softness and breathed in deeply. She smelled of sweet, musky readiness and cherries. He then lightly kissed her inner thighs, making Hermione quiver impatiently. Gods, how the wizard teased her sometimes. He parted Hermione with two fingers, eyed the enlarged and stiffened peak of her clit. The mini erection was proof she was ready for any and everything. He began tickling the soft pink flesh with the tip of his tongue, running around that little man in the boat, rather than attacking it first. Hermione's fingers locked into his hair tightly now, and she pushed her pelvis upward for more contact, which Snape gave her, using his entire tongue to lick and titillating her before pressing his lips tight against her pussy, kissing it and suckling lightly on her clit.

"Oh gods," she groaned as the delicious sensation pulsed through her body. She let go of his hair with one hand so she could play with her nipple, her head tilted back and body writhing slightly as her lover attended her.

Snape slipped his hands under her hips and lifted her slightly, bringing her core even closer to his mouth and slipped a finger inside her warm, tight orifice, crooking the tip of it as he gently moved his digit in and out of her, still licking and kissing her flesh, lapping up the juices and reveling in the taste of her. Hermione's legs began to tremble as the Potions master found the little sensitive area known as the G-spot. He was very good at finding it because of his own exploration of his body. A woman's g-spot's location was roughly the equivalent of where a man's prostate gland was located.

And Snape knew where that was.

"Oh, ohohohohohoh! Severus! Severus!" Hermione gasped as his finger caressed the spot, his tongue lashing her now to a wild crescendo, and he waited for the dam to burst. Suddenly, Hermione let out a cry, tightening around his finger, her hand flying back to his hair and grasping a hank of it as she climaxed. Snape quickly pulled out his finger and locked his mouth to her opening, capturing her hot, delectable flow, drinking it down reverently, taking her release into himself, feeling their connection.

"Oh, merlindianasomaandcupid!" Hermione hissed as she floated ecstatically on the waves of pleasure breaking over her, Snape riding the perfect storm with her. The Potions master stayed at her core, sucking and lapping until the last tremor, his face wet with what he missed. Hermione let out a sigh and he lifted his head, looking up at her red, flushed face with more than a little satisfaction before climbing up her body. His cock was swollen to bursting with blood and felt as if it weighed ten pounds.

Hermione's body was moist and warm, the scent of her release like musky incense. Snape kissed her and she could taste herself on his tongue. She was still drifting, then let out a cry as she felt him enter her, thick, hot and hard, sliding through her sleeve and resting against her cervix, pulsing, alive and hers.

"My beautiful wife," Severus sighed, surrounded by her heat and softness and raising himself up on his hands. "Receive your husband. Take your love."

He began to move, slowly and deliberately, his black eyes focused on Hermione's face as he gave her stroke after strong, deep stroke, claiming her body as his own. She jerked under him, her breasts bouncing, her eyes heated as they looked up into his slightly contorted face

"Yes, Severus . . . gods," she moaned and the wizard began to move faster, angling his pelvis and whirling his slightly so he stretched her slightly, loving the friction of his hard cock burrowing into her soft, wet, clutching body.

He rode her body hungrily, hearing her juices squelch around him, feeling them wetting his loins and going just a little deeper, a little harder as she clutched at his wet sides, drawing him in, trying to guide him. Sometimes he thought Hermione was trying to make him permanently pin her to the mattress. Snape sat back on his heels, pulling Hermione's hips downward, slipping his hands under the small of her back and lifting her, the witch's hands falling to the sides of her head, surrendering her body to the wizard.

He looked down at her, bouncing and jerking before him, then down at his thick cock, the pale, cream-covered shaft appearing and disappearing between her parted thighs. He reached up with one hand to caress her cheek, then her breast, not losing his rhythm as he took his prize. More than his prize.

His love.

He pulled her upward, so she was on his lap and locked his mouth to hers, Hermione moaning into it as he wrapped his arms around her. Now, she could get in on the act and began whirling her hips on his cock, Snape's silken voice also rising in pleasure, urging her on as she took over, using her skills as a lover to nearly taking him over the edge. Both witch and wizard were perspiring freely now, skin to slippery, hot skin, their bodies moving in counterpoint, tongues and bodies entwined, finding wholeness in each other.

Hermione let out another gurgling cry as she hit another peak and Snape groaned as her heat washed over him, wetting his thighs. He quickly fell forward with her, sliding out and turning her on her side so her back was to him, lifting her leg and entering her from the back, locking his mouth to her shoulder and driving into her, stroking her through her release, Hermione trembling against him, lost to his passion and her own, unintelligible words pouring from her lips as her husband continued loving her.

Snape finally slowed his stroke as Hermione drifted downward, her body hot and wet, her hair in curly ringlets from sweat and activity. She felt his finger tip enter her anus, and she relaxed, ready for what was to come.

"Are you ready?" Snape breathed against her ear.

"For anything," she said softly.

"Tell me if I hurt you, Hermione," the Potions master said as he pulled out of Hermione, shifting back and adjusting the position of his cock. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, Severus—" Hermione said. She was so ready to feel him this way. Toys were—toys. Stiff, rigid. Unfeeling. She was ready for something warm, thick—alive to fill her.

Severus rested the head of his cock against her entrance, fingering her a little, nervous that she would tighten up and make entry impossible. But he needn't have worried as he gently thrust forward and Hermione received the head of his cock easily. The wizard let out a gasp as the unfamiliar tightness of her arse wrapped around him.

"Oh my gods—Hermione," he hissed as she closed her eyes, feeling his cock throb inside of her. It felt amazing.

"Go on, Severus—you feel so good. Go deeper," she told him.

Carefully, Severus eased forward, burying himself deeper into that wonderful, slick tightness. She felt amazing. He kissed Hermione's throat and shoulders appreciatively as she sighed.

Severus slid in a bit further and stopped. This was as far as he dared to go. He had a long cock and didn't want to damage her.

"Oh, that's so good, Severus—fuck me," Hermione urged, overcome by the fullness. This was so much better than a lifeless toy. She could feel him tremble against her back. Snape wasn't used to this feeling and already he was approaching the brink.

"I—I can't move," he said softly to his wife.

"Then I will," Hermione said. She was on her side and could thrust back and forth if she wanted. "Let me do the work, Severus."

The Potions master didn't respond. He couldn't because his mouth was slack with pleasure as Hermione began to pump her loins slowly, drawing her tight arse over his cock, then returning.

A tight "yesssssss' managed to escape him as Hermione sped up, caressing and burying the wizard's shaft in and out of her body. Snape shifted back and pulled her cheek apart slightly so he could see his penetration. There it was, his fat, pale cock piercing her tight little puckerhole.

He should have fought the urge to look, because he suddenly clutched her body against his in a near death hold . . . and blew with a cry, the world dropping away as pleasure tore through him. He came . . . he just couldn't help himself. The sensation and the sight were just too erotic not to react.

Hermione gasped as she felt him pulse inside her, filling her with heat, his cock jerking as he released. It felt incredible. Unlike anything else she had ever experienced.

She lay there quietly as his gasping and orgasm ebbed, his grip on her body loosening, then his lips pressing to her shoulder as his entire body relaxed and he withdrew. One of his hands slid over her side and hip to caress her buttock.

"Are you all right?" he asked her softly. He had lost control in the end and wasn't sure if he had gone too deep in the process. He hadn't.

"I'm fine, Severus," she said, turning in his arms and kissing him.

The wizard's face was full of wonder, and he continued caressing her buttock, unable to help himself. Her arse was pure gold.

"I'm afraid I didn't last too long," he told his wife, who smiled at him.

"It was our first time, Severus. You were very good," she assured him, kissing his big nose now. "We'll get the hang of it. We've got the rest of our lives."

Snape gave her a small smile, then yawned horribly. Usually he was able to perform at least twice a night. But it had been a long day for the wizard, and it was showing now. His long lashes fluttered and he yawned again.

Hermione rolled to her back and managed to get the tired Potions master situated so his head rested comfortably against her breasts. She caressed his temple and played in his hair as sleep overtook him. She laid there, the love of her life resting against her and feeling all was right with the world.

Hermione Granger and Severus Snape had found each other by navigating an ocean of time and acting with courage and conviction to change a dark destiny. Along the way, they changed the wizarding world for the better. Lives were saved and forever altered. Relationships were formed that were never meant to be . . .

unless, of course, that had been Destiny's plan all along.

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A/N: A nice honeymoon night, I think. Thanks for reading. *** Epilogue next.


	66. Epilogue

**Epilogue:~ Two Years Later**

"Congratulations, Neville. Luna," Hermione said happily, embracing first Neville then Luna, as Severus, Lucius Malfoy and his wife stood by, waiting to offer their own well-wishes to the newlyweds. Others waited as well.

Luna wore a shifting rainbow-pastel colored bridal gown and veil. It could make a person quite dizzy with its hypnotic concentric circles. Her choce of dress wasn't surprising to Hermione. She'd expected the Ravenclaw to do something completely different. Albus had to be prompted to continue the ceremony because he'd been mesmerized by the gown. But it had been a lovely wedding, held on Luna's father's property, right before the most lovely maze Neville had produced. It was an actual four level castle, complete with turrets and an underground dungeon featuring fungi covering the stone walls.

The name of the company was "A Mazing Adventures." Severus, who was the first investor and a consultant had a difficult time swallowing that one down. Neville found another enthusiastic investor in Lucius Malfoy, who served as maze tester on a number of occasions.

They had a total of ten mazes sprawling across the landscape, and the challenges were changed on Sunday evenings. There were simple, advanced and nearly impossible mazes to traverse. There were children's mazes, and competitive mazes that could be run in teams. Not only did the players have to face challenges but each other. All of the mazes were self-configuring, and often a player who reached safe ground would purposely fire into the maze itself, hoping to take out the competition.

Needless to say, the operation was a rousing success, with everyone making oodles of Galleons. The need for excitement and challenge in the wizarding world had been far greater than anyone anticipated. A few competitors sprang up, but Neville's A Mazing Adventures was the original and people flocked there by the droves to be challenged.

There was also a small onsite medical ward and certified healer on the premises to handle any unfortunate occurrences, of which there were many. But everyone signed a waiver when they made their reservations. It could take months before a party could play even with the variety of mazes.

Hagrid also made a bit of money serving as an emissary to the intelligent magical monsters to get them on board, his personal coup de grace being when he managed to sign on a talking dragon, named Fleetwing. The Hungarian Ridgeback took his place in the maze enthusiastically, complete with treasure trove, eager to singe some robes make wizards and witches piss themselves and above all, fire the Red Flare of Failure, which gave him bonuses.

Hermione and Severus had indeed started their own apothecary shop that was doing quite nicely. It was located in Knockturn Alley, and Hermione hardened accordingly in the process of working in the shop day to day. Now, every low life and deadbeat witch and wizard hurried out of the line of fire when the little witch stalked through the alley unaccompanied and ready to blast any potential assailant to Kingdom Come and Go.

Harry Potter married Ginny Weasley and followed in his father's footsteps although he was still in the Quidditch minor leagues.

Hermione and Severus attended the Meeting of the Masters, and had to help the four young apprentices in the ensuing melee that resulted when they demanded to be tested, the witch and wizard mounting the stage and adding their wands to the four young wizards' drawn weapons. Sanity returned and one by one they demonstrated their brewing abilities ala Snape and challenged any Master present to replicate the act. Just as it happened with Snape, it happened with them, no Master willing to risk blowing himself up. All four became fully-fledged Potions masters. When they presented their own apprentices years later, it was with dignity and without display, the oath binding them all to ethical behavior. Talent and potential became the primary qualifications of an acceptable apprentice. Slowly, the field began to change for the better.

Severus walked up to Neville and extended his hand.

"Congratulations, Neville," the pale wizard said as they shook hands firmly, then he nodded at Luna.

"Mrs. Longbottom," he purred.

"Thank you, Severus," Luna replied with a soft smile. "I only hope we'll be as happy as you and Hermione."

Snape gave her a smirk, then proudly looked down at his wife's rounded belly.

"If you're half as happy as we are, Luna, then you will be happy indeed," he replied softly, meeting Hermione's eyes.

She smiled at him, bringing one hand to the slight curve and caressing it gently.

Snape covered her hand gently. love evident in his dark eyes.

"Quite happy, indeed," he reiterated.

THE END

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A/N: And that's the end of "A Turn for the Better." Hope you enjoyed. **


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